Brutal Asset

John Conroe

Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Copyright © 2011 John Conroe

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

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ISBN:

It wouldn’t be possible for this book to exist without the help of a lot of people. I need to thank my pre-reader, Bob Braun, for catching my mistake as well as my brother, Scott for his continued support of my writing habits.

Jack Barry for helping with the cover photo.

Mostly I need to thank my family for understanding and supporting my need to write… gotta get these stories out of my head! So thank you Emilee, Allison and, of course, my wife, Robin.

The Demon Accords series:

God Touched

Demon Driven

Brutal Asset

Chapter 1

A single lonely coyote howled in the desert night. It sounded much different from the Eastern coyotes I was used to. Different pitch, different tone. A single voice.

I also heard the individual engines of the six motorcycles that escorted us, the heartbeats of their riders and the fact that the pickup needed a valve job.

The blood on my cheek was drying and becoming sticky, so I carefully moved my head to rub some dirt and rust into it. The bed of the beat-up old truck was full of filth to choose from. Heavy sisal rope bound my hands and feet, digging into my skin, the fibers needling the insides of my wrists. All in all, things were going well.

The hard part was behind me. A lot of prep work had gone into getting me here. My hair and beard were grown out, my jeans, tee and leather jacket artfully weathered and worn. We even thought about a tattoo, but my skin won’t take them anymore, and a fake one might be too much of a giveaway. The worst was the itchy blue contacts to hide my violet eyes. The best was the vintage Harley shovelhead motorcycle that had been confiscated from a Spawn member in New York.

Walking into the New Mexico bar had been natural, like a soldier in hostile territory. Pretending to be drunk and flirting with the girls that immediately hit on me was much, much harder. I don’t flirt well, in fact I’ve trained myself to be an anti-flirter. But the hardest part, by far, was managing to take the beating the Loki’s Spawn members had inflicted when they recognized the bike and pegged me as a cop. Being all weres (in this case wolves), they were much stronger and faster than humans. The punishment had been brutal; in fact, I distinctly heard at least three bones in my face break. But as bad as that had been, it was the fight to control the berserker inside me that was hardest. That part of me had raged to kill them, struggling to get free. To tear them limb from limb, smash their skulls, shred their soft were flesh. And he/ I would have, that demon-bound part of me that I keep jailed deep down in the recesses of my psyche. They were to him what humans were to them – prey.

My wounds had long since healed, which is why I was trying to get dirt on my face. It wouldn’t do to look too healthy when I was presented to the leader of this particular nest of Spawn. My third nest in as many weeks, this one only sixteen or seventeen Spawn members. The others had been bigger at twenty-three and forty-one. They were gone. The first I had just simply snuck up on, the guards not really believing anyone would be foolish enough to tackle almost two dozen hardened weres. They lasted two minutes and seventeen seconds.

The larger group I had dropped in on, literally falling from the sky like fury from Heaven. Well, fury from the back of a C-130 Hercules transport, anyway. I had the hang of it, falling that is. By Lightening my weight and Pushing off the ground below, I could glide down with a fair amount of control. Those vampire energy techniques are downright handy.

That group had lasted almost a full five minutes.

But the plan this time wasn’t to just kill them all, like a surgeon cutting out a tumor. Instead I needed to grab the leader for questioning; a biopsy of sorts. The rest, well, they weren’t needed for any particular reason, so they wouldn’t be seeing the dawn of a new day.

The lead Harley downshifted, the rest changing pitch almost instantly as the whole convoy turned onto a dirt road. I know it was dirt, ‘cause the dust and sand thrown up immediately covered me head-to-toe. The one wolf riding in the bed of the truck with me coughed once to clear his own clogged airways. The pace was slower now, the road rough and choppy.

Left alone with nothing else to do, my thoughts turned to Tanya. I would be heading back East after tonight and I was anxious to see her. Three weeks was by far the longest I had gone without seeing her and I was worried she hadn’t been eating right while I was away. Lydia would make sure she had a good supply of bagged blood on hand, but she tended to let meals slide when I wasn’t there. I made a mental note not to bleed too much in the coming fight, Tanya would need it all.

A cool wind blew across the back of the pickup, sweeping away the dust cloud and filling my nose with crisp desert smells. A welcome change from the sour-sharp, unwashed canine odors I had been inundated with during most of the drive.

The pace abruptly slowed and I heard all but one of the bikes shut down. The pickup pulled up and stopped. I couldn’t see anything, being face down in the back. My ears worked just fine, though, the sound echoing around the small clearing painting a sonar picture in my head.

A one-story rectangular building sat in the middle of a pack of motorcycles. I’ve gotten pretty good at identifying building materials, at least common ones, by echo, and I was fairly certain the building was constructed of concrete blocks with a sheet metal roof. Loud music rattled the poorly fasten roofing and after a moment more of listening I could tell there were ten individuals inside. There were six riders, two more in the cab of the truck and one in back with me. Our estimate had been for a total of seventeen, so two more wasn’t a big deal.

The dust covered wolf in the bed of the pickup hauled me up and threw me over the side, where his waiting pack members let me fall to the ground. Of course the one golf-ball sized rock within four feet of me happened to be right under my face. Owww.

Two weres, a male and female, grabbed my feet, flipped me to my back, and dragged me to the building, the back of my head finding several more rocks in the desert sand. Weak yellow light spilled from the doorway ahead and I could hear new voices swearing and shouting raucous greetings to the returning Spawn. A single motorcycle still revved, the pitch of the engine telling me it was my confiscated ride. The Spawn driving it rode slowly behind me, letting the big front tire almost graze my head as his gang fellows laughed, pulling me over the threshold and into the nest.

All of these perceptions were peripheral, as most of my attention was centered on the battle for control I was waging with my darker self. The berserker inside me was shaking his cell door, begging for release. I use a lot of mental imagery to help control my own demon. I have a carefully crafted mental picture of a heavy, iron-bound, reinforced cell door with massive bars and hinges fastened into the solid bedrock of my mind. Gina had suggested this technique and together we had built my dark half’s prison, image by image. Because the berserker is just another aspect of me, the images have real strength and value. The stoutness of the door was therefore vital to my plan, simple as it was. The beast would have to heel if this was going to work.

My two draggers dropped my feet after pulling me about a third of the way into the room. The door was in the center of the long front of the building. The inside was typical of a crappy back country bar. Poured concrete floor, covered in filth and dried sour beer. My nose told me that substantial amounts of blood had been spilled in the not too distant past. The rear wall was a long bar, backed by a mirror and the requisite neon beer signs. A beat up stereo on one corner of the liquor rack banged out what sounded like George Thorogood. Two weres sat at the bar, and along with the stout bartender, all giving me a hungry stare.

Loki’s Spawn are cannibalistic, happy to eat their victims while in animal form. It added to the terror the gang inspired. Most weres frown on eating humans, considering it a crime punishable by death.

The rider of my purloined Harley parked in the center of the room. Three gang members lined the inside wall, just to the right of the door. Two more stood back by a couple of doors that most likely led to the kitchen and bathrooms. Three from the group that ‘captured’ me came in and took up positions in front of the door.

A shitty old pool table was angled near the right side of the bar, two more Spawn with pool cues watching, yellow eyes glittering. That made sixteen. My sonar sense told me the last three were in the corner to the left of the bar where I could just see a raised performance platform around the legs of my draggers. One of the three in the corner headed our way, his slow measured step telling me he was the dominant wolf of this sordid little pack. About six feet tall, solidly built, with black hair and a narrow trimmed black beard that came to a point on his chin. His face was angled, skin tight without any spare flesh. Black eyes stared at me coldly while his mouth quirked in a pleased grin.

He didn’t say anything at first, just walked around the confiscated Harley, one hand casually gliding over the chromed handlebars and flame painted gas tank. His fingers lingered on the skull engraved gas cap.

“Did you think a shitty paint job and a new gas cap would fool us?” he asked.

Half of the pack growled at his words and I could smell their anger begin to build.

“Jose here helped Snyder rebuild this engine,” he said, nodding at a stocky wolf by the door. Jose growled loudly and his face shifted slightly, as though it was semi-liquid. The anger smell intensified.

“But we haven’t heard from Snyder or any of the others that went East in quite some time, which is why you’re here and not dead in the desert,” he said, his voice even.

Virtually all the pack members were growling now, a low pitched, hair-raising vibration that rolled through my chest and spoke to the primitive side of me. Some were beginning to Change, the ones who could control the shift from man to beast. Wet pops and cracks spoke of the transformation from human to animal.

The two wolves on either side of me grabbed my arms with hair covered hands and pulled me to my feet to face the leader. My personal guards were skilled, as they were transforming into the beast-man form (beast-woman in one case) while holding my arms. The male was almost seven feet tall in beast form, the female well over six. Both were corded with massive muscles. Only the leader held his human form while he stared at me with cold black eyes.

“Scary isn’t it?” he chuckled.

A whimper sounded from the corner platform by the bar, and when he turned to look back at it, I got my first good look at the two individuals that crouched there.

I don’t remember if it was Carl von Clausewitz or Helmuth Moltke who first coined the famous military phrase ‘No plan survives first contact with the enemy’. Probably Moltke, but I’m not sure…I wasn’t there.

My plan had survived first, second and third contacts with my enemies. The point where it all fell apart was first contact with the children.

Chapter 2

There were two of them, very obviously brother and sister, huddled in the corner, terrified by the Changing weres in the bar. The girl alone would have been enough to ruin my plan. At first I thought she was thirteen or so, but I realized her fear and posture made her seem younger. Probably closer to sixteen. Like her brother, she looked to be close to full-blood Native American, her long black hair snarled and matted with dirt. She was wearing lime green sleep shorts and a stained white cami. I only know it was called a cami from my exposure to Tanya, Lydia, Nika and every other female vamp who thought parading around Coven quarters half-dressed was natural. She literally shook with fear, the smell of it finally reaching me past the wet-dog stink of half Changed weres. But she had positioned her slight body between the pack and her little brother. He was eight or nine, wearing just X-Men pajama bottoms, as he tried to make himself smaller. Suddenly, I flashed to my own childhood.

I’m curled on the floor of my brother’s closet, my hands over my ears, trying to keep the horrific sounds of my family’s death from reaching my brain. But the wet thunks of the ax and the sharp screams of my father, mother and big brother cut straight through to my soul. Marcus had shoved me into the little space in the back of his closet where he kept girly magazines and stuff he didn’t want Mom to find. Then he had rushed to his death, which I was hearing in stark detail now. When the quiet came it was a relief…at first. But the slow steady footsteps of the stranger with the ax became almost as bad as my family’s death cries.

The carefully constructed, steel-reinforced vault door on the prison cell in my mind shattered like cheap window glass, and the beast was out.

The leader turned his head back to me, a sneer on his face. Immediately, he sensed something different about me, his expression changing slightly.

“That’s not scary! You wanna see scary?” a voice not my own said, using my mouth.

He blinked, which meant he almost missed the whole thing.

I felt the mono-molecular edges form themselves around the outside of my hands and arms, the heavy rope cut instantly. Formed of my strange violet aura, they are, I’m pretty sure, the sharpest blades on the planet. They sliced through the two weres holding me, cutting through their torsos without resistance, which was kind of too bad, ‘cause I wanted some resistance. Leaving the suddenly bisected guards, my arms slammed forward in front of me.

My hands came together, back of thumb to back of thumb in the center of the leader’s torso, my middle fingers just exiting his back. His eyes were only half-way through his blink. They opened as his upper body slid to the floor, following the split bodies of his two minions. At least he got to see a little bit of scary.

Three down.

The 360 degree display that forms in my head at times like this plotted everyone’s position, inside the building, the vehicles outside the building, the soldiers standing watch a mile away, even the AC-130 gunship that circled at 40,000 feet two miles distant with thermal cameras rolling.

I turned to my right side, slammed my left hand through the chest of the were on the Harley, not bothering to use the mono edges, just raw power. My hand crushed his heart, then gripped his spine like a handle. I pulled, lightly, and tossed his body across the room behind me, hearing it splat into the wall. My right hand grabbed the front fork of the Harley and then I pulled, heavily, smashing the big bike into the weres lined up against the wall. I managed to crush two of the three before I swung the bike forward and threw it across the room at bar. The physics of a two hundred pound man throwing a six hundred pound motorcycle one-handed are complex, but my manipulation of them was instinctual. Posting my body to the floor with a column of energy gave me the anchor necessary to launch the heavy bike. The sitting weres had risen in time to get in the way of the Harley as it crashed through the bar, the mirror and, finally, the concrete block wall behind it.

Five more down. The bartender, still in man form, had managed to slip out of the path of the six hundred pound chrome and steel missile, and was starting to grope for something in the remaining part of the bar. I ignored him, moving instead to crush the skull of the last were on the wall with a left punch. I also managed to punch completely through his head and the wall behind. Oops, my bad!

I bounded to the two by the kitchen door, forward flipping in the air and dropped an ax kick onto the top of one’s head with a mono-spiked heel. The spike drove through his brain, but in hindsight, it probably wasn’t necessary as his head was crushed flat by the force of the kick which also drove his neck down into his torso. He died with a snarl on his face, as the other, in wolf form, lunged for me, snapping her huge jaws like a bear-trap. I stuck my left forearm in her mouth, letting her own bite force drive the insanely sharp edges on my arm through her top and bottom jawbones, slicing her hardened teeth like clay. As the front of her face fell off, I ended her participation in the fight with a reverse knife-hand strike through her left armpit and out her right shoulder, cleaving her into wet chunks of furry meat.

Eleven down.

The two at the pool table were rushing me. Well, the closer one was, in wolf form. His pool partner, in beast-man form, was picking up the heavy pool table, most likely to throw at moi.

A bolt of dark purple power shot from my right hand, the concentrated burst of particles blasting the legs completely off the were holding the table. He fell, the table fell and he squished.

I side stepped the rushing wolf, grabbed him by the throat and slammed his skull into a convenient pocket of the pool table. Werewolf in the corner pocket! Easy shot!

The bartender had pulled a battered Ithaca pump shotgun from under the bar. I called it to my left hand, using aura like a rope, pulling it from his grip and across the room. Then I shot him with it three times. Hmm, must be silver buckshot from the look of the wounds, which blackened and burned. I put the last two rounds into one of the wolves by the door, then jammed the barrel of the empty gun down through the skull of my pool pocket buddy, pinning his twitching body in place.

The wounded wolf at the door fell, and his two partners, one male, one female, shot out the door on four feet, having come to the conclusion that they had better places to be. My aura-edged left hand clipped the downed wolf’s head from his body as I rushed by. I caught the first wolf just six feet outside the door, running over her sprinting wolf form with aura spiked boots that snipped her spine and pinned her heart, then head to the desert floor. Leaping from her back, I wreathed my body in mono-edges, grabbed the remaining wolf with my arms and legs, then sort of shimmied around him till he fell apart in little chunks, his head flying about sixty-five feet.

Seventeen down. Time elapsed, nine point three seconds.

Chapter 3

Perhaps some background is in order. My name is Chris Gordon; actually, Christian Gordon. Ironically, I’m not very religious. Oh, I believe in God and the whole Heaven/Hell thing, I’m just not on good terms with the Big Guy. Mainly because I don’t think my whole family needed to die when I was eight, chopped to bits by a demon in human form. The fact that I am a natural demon exorcist is maybe ironic, as I lay huddled on the floor of my brother’s closet while my mother, father and older brother fought to protect me. I should have been the one doing the protecting. My grandfather says I just would have died then and there. I was too young to be a threat to the Hellbourne who hunted me. It’s occurred to me that maybe I should have died then and there.

At age twelve I discovered the demon banishing thing, which manifests as violet light that seems to be part of my personal aura. The color exactly matches my eyes, which caused me no end of torment as a child. Let’s put it this way, more kids in my school knew me as ‘the Freak’ then knew my name.

A week shy of my twenty-third birthday I stopped a Hellbourne from killing a girl in a spooky Goth nightclub in New York City. The girl turned out to be a vampire and a rather important one at that. She decided I was hers to keep and I didn’t argue the point. But during our introduction she drained me of a rather large amount of blood and in order to stabilize me she gave me a few CC’s of her own. I reacted to the vampire virus in her blood like I was made for it (which it turns out I was). I grew stronger, faster, more coordinated and developed the hyper senses of a vampire, but without the whole blood thirsting need to bite necks. I just eat like a pig instead.

There were other developments as well. My violet aura, the source of my ability to banish demons, grew much more powerful and versatile. I can form the mono-edges around any portion of my body, making me a living blade. I can, in times of anger or combat, direct concentrated beams of power that disassemble the molecules of whatever they hit. I can alter the essential nature of complex compounds, like plastic explosives and smokeless gunpowder, rendering them useless. My friend Chet, who has more brains in his earlobe than I have in my whole head, tells me I can control and direct quantum particles, things like neutrinos, quarks, and mesons. He says I’m a walking particle accelerator. I don’t know what any of that means – I usually drift off as soon as he says particle or quantum. My lack of understanding doesn’t change the fact that I can do what I do.

My other major life change was near the end of my courtship (that’s how I think of the first week) of Tanya. I was injected with a hypodermic full of demon blood which temporarily knocked out my aura abilities. Long term, it bound to my cellular structure and the primitive part of my brain that pysch dudes refer to as Id, giving that dark side of me a serious attitude problem. Hence, the berserker inside me, my dark , oh so violent self that thrives on fighting and killing.

But listen to me, whining like a beat dog. We all have our issues, don’t we.

Chapter 4

The last were hit the ground, actually it was just his head, landing between me and the cleanup troops that I knew were watching, having followed the GPS tracker hidden on the bike.

. The cell door in my mind was history and the beast was still out. Part of me observed as I raised my head and spoke in that deeper, more disturbing voice not quite my own.

“Medics! Now!” I said, then turned and slid back into the broken building. Weres are incredibly tough, a few of my victims were still alive, but the damage was probably too great even for the LV virus to repair.

The children still crouched in the corner, eyes wide in shock. The rational part of me wondered how the last half minute had seemed to them. Weres in a barroom. Beat-up guy dragged in. Beat-up guy pulverizes seventeen weres in less than ten seconds. Most of the fight a blur, Building bashed to hell, motorcycles flying. Altogether, epic weirdness.

I kept my distance, observer/berserker me, content to just study them while I waited for the help I could hear roaring up on ATV’s and combat dune buggies.

The grubby white of their sleepwear was now misted with a spray of blood, likely from the buckshot-blasted bartender. The boy was too shocked to react, but his sister’s expression combined shock with bewildered awe, like she had seen something more than he had. Probably just freaked.

A swarm of rugged off-road vehicles slid to a halt outside, booted feet pounding toward the doorway almost before the ATVs stopped. A helicopter approached, rotors whumping in the cool night air.

“Grim?” a deep authoritarian voice questioned from outside.

“Clear!,” was my reply, as I moved to put myself between the combat troops now entering and the huddled children. No use taking chances, part of me decided.

A five member ‘stick’ of entry troops smoothly entered the bar, two low, three high. Their squat AutoAssault-12 shotguns sweeping arcs, creating overlapping fields of fire. Technically, they are ‘Agents’ for Homeland Security. Yeeaah, right! The entire team that swept into the area had military origins, drawn from every branch. The entry team’s charcoal grey uniforms had emblems that depicted a cowled figured holding a purple bladed scythe. I’m not sure, but my bet was their previous emblem said ‘CAG’…short for Combat Application Group, which is the sanitized name for Delta Force. Calling them ‘Agents’ got around the whole Posse Comitatus Act which forbids military troops from acting within the boundaries of the U.S. The short, slim medic that followed them in had come directly from the Navy. Maya Hue’s slight form was weighed down by medic bags holding who knows what. She ignored the entry team and headed for me, veering into the corner when I pointed at the children. Her eyes slid right past my blood soaked form without hesitation, which showed how many times she had seen me like this.

The next figure through the door, after Maya, was taller and curvier than the petit medic. A very attractive face of Hispanic origin scanned the bar room quickly, then studied me for a moment. Gina Velasquez froze suddenly, her wicked-sharp perceptions picking up something different about me. After a moment she spoke quiet words that made every member of the ‘Security’ team tense.

“Grim? Why are you still out?” she asked, her voice even and calm.

The team calls me Grim, short for Grim Reaper, which is my callsign. I can thank my friend Chet for that moniker. Gina, however, only calls me Chris, reserving Grim for when my alter-ego, combat persona is out and about. My dark self always retreats to his cell in my mind when the action is done. This time I was still in fight mode and she knew it.

I didn’t answer right away, instead, noting the way the entry team started when they heard her mode of address. They know she only calls the beast inside me by that name. Suddenly, their attention was on me, not the dying weres in the room. Maya Hue’s gentle, reassuring voice slipped just slightly as she spoke in low tones to the children.

Gina waited for my answer, staying exactly where she was by the door.

“Those two – home,” my wrong toned voice answered.

She didn’t answer immediately, instead turning to study the children with dark brown eyes that see way more than most. A slight widening of those eyes was all the reaction she showed before turning back to me. Gina would make an extremely dangerous poker player.

“Okay, it’ll happen,” she said.

“You promise?” my dark self questioned.

“Yes,” was her answer.

The intense, razor-sharp perceptions and internal heads-up display receded as my combat personality retreated to the doorless cell and my normal self reestablished control. Gina could read the change in me, no doubt from some subtle body language or something. She breathed a very small breath of relief, enough to tell the highly skilled combat operators in the room that I was back to ‘normal’….whatever the hell that is.

Her eyebrows quirked in question, but I just shrugged and shook my head, not willing to discuss it yet. Instead, I slipped past her and out the door, nodding briefly at General Tobias Creek as he strode toward the door, directing commands at the swarm of gray uniformed men and women who had descended upon the scene. He nodded back, a little wary, then headed inside while I bee-lined for a little desert hill a hundred feet or so away.

His comments still reached my hyper sensitive ears.

“Christ what a mess! Is that the leader?” he said in disgust. It wasn’t the gore that bothered him, but the fact that the reason for my whole ‘get caught while undercover’ act was lying on the floor in two non-breathing, non-speaking pieces.

“What the hell happened, Gina?” I heard him ask. She didn’t answer, at least not verbally, but she may have pointed at the kids.

“Who the hell are they?” his deep voice questioned.

“I don’t know, General, but I promised Grim they would be going home right away,” she answered.

“What? They need to be questioned, debriefed and….did you just say you promised Grim they would go home?” he asked as he picked up on her words.

“Yeah, I have an idea what happened and these two need to be headed home real soon. Maya is running their fingerprints through the system to see if there are any hits and we’re checking the law enforcement channels for any notices of missing children.”

“We can’t send them home now! With the Alpha of this…mess dead we’re gonna need all the intelligence we can get!” he said.

“Not an option General,” Gina replied. “Look around – does this look like any of the other nests Grim has cleared?”

“No….no, those were precise, surgical almost. This looks like a bomb exploded!” he replied.

“Exactly what happened, a bomb named Grim exploded on this pack of Spawn. The detonators were those children, held helpless by monsters,” she said.

“Okay, I get it. He’s protective of children. But couldn’t he have been more controlled?” Creek asked. “This is simply brutal!”

“General, the persona that I call Grim is one aspect of Chris Gordon. As near as I can tell, Grim’s foundations were laid when Chris’s family was murdered. When Chris was about the age of that boy over there,” she said.

It was uncomfortable to hear them talk about me, but at the same time I was interested in Gina’s explanation. I was cheating by listening in, but it was less painful than self-examination.

“At eight years old, Chris was completely unequipped to fight a demon. Faced with the horrific murder of his mother, father and brother, his mind created a separate part of himself to deal with being powerless. Then, when other children played games and had fun, he trained to become a fighter, a warrior. His buried persona absorbed those lessons with a vengeance,” she explained. “Fifteen years later, the vampire virus expanded those abilities .., well, like he was made for it.”

She hadn’t mentioned the hypodermic of demonic blood that had been injected into me, but I could tell she had skipped it on purpose. Obviously, the part of me that had attracted the demonic essence was the fledgling combat persona born inside me as a child.

“The events in the Spring, when Chris faced a threat from Agent Duclair, a gang of street toughs, a rogue werewolf, and, perhaps most importantly, thought Tanya had forsaken him brought Grim to the surface to deal with any and all perceived threats.”

“Okay, so Grim handles the fighting because Chris doesn’t want to?” General Creek asked.

I shifted feet, uncomfortable with his implication that part of me was afraid.

“No, General, Grim handles the fighting because Grim is a custom crafted combat machine who can fight and kill better than perhaps anything else that we know of. Chris isn’t particularly afraid of much, except losing his friends,” she answered.

“So you’re telling me that the single most dangerous man on Earth has a split personality, and the dangerous one is in charge?” he asked.

“Not quite like that General,” she answered. “Chris controls his dark half pretty well. Grim has the same values as Chris, he’s just more ruthless.”

“Then how come, Chris couldn’t control Grim here?” Creek asked.

“Because most likely, Chris was in complete agreement with Grim,” Gina said.

“Is he safe to be around? Safe to let go?”

“Well, no one here could stop him if he wasn’t, but let me put it this way. In less than three days, he’ll be taking my daughter, Toni, to kindergarten, for family visitor day. I’m not worried.”

“You know, Gina, your decision to make him your daughter’s godfather, might not have been the best idea you ever had,” Creek said, his tone intimating a poor choice on her part. “Have you ever thought of the bullseye that you have painted on your daughter?”

I knew exactly what he meant. Anyone who kidnapped my goddaughter would have my undivided attention.

Gina snorted. “General, my daughter became a target the day I first started working with Chris. With him as her godfather, she’s better protected than anyone,” she said, her voice ringing with a note of conviction that bordered on religious faith. “Do you know what she told me tonight when I called at bedtime? She said ‘I’m fine Mommy. Daddy’s reading me stories and Okwari keeps me company’. She’s got a god on overwatch!”

Personally, I wasn’t so sure. I had seen less and less from Okwari since he had shown me how to make Toni’s necklace five months ago. Each visit had been more fleeting then the last. As if he was distracted. It had been a solid month since my last contact and I missed him.

“Doesn’t she call her necklace Okwari?” Creek asked.

“If you mean the pendant that Chris formed from solid platinum with his aura, that connects her to both Chris and the bear-god, than yeah!”

“Umm…I see. Didn’t know that,” he replied, his tone thoughtful.

“Sir, I’ll talk to Chris in a few minutes, but first I’m more interested in the children. None of the previous nests had hostages, and certainly not children. This is important,” she said.

“Exactly why we can’t send them home immediately!” the General answered.

“Then you can explain to Grim why they won’t be safe in their family’s arms as soon as possible!” she answered sharply.

The General was silent for a moment, then he cleared his throat.

“Corpsman Hue, talk to me about these kids,” he commanded.

“Sir, they’re physically okay, just shocky from their ordeal. They told us their names; Tami and Ben Keonie. They’re from a little town in Arizona, just across the state line.”

“Any hits from law enforcement?”

A separate voice answered, the first name Tory popped into my head. One of the regular agents.

“General, we got a hit on the AMBER alert system. Both children reported missing by their grandfather, a Mr. Ahiga Nakai.”

“Full workup on grandpa and the kids and anyone else. I want the DNA for these doggies sampled and cataloged in twenty minutes. We burn in thirty!”

A chorus of “Yes Sir!” responded as the team got busy. I’d heard enough for now, choosing to head to the Rig before the blood dried completely on my skin.

Chapter 5

Moving silently through the night isn’t something that vampires have to work at. It comes with the fangs and the night vision and the rest of the package. The V –squared virus gave me many of the same gifts (just not fangs) and I ghosted past the guards around the Rig without their ever knowing it.

We call it the Rig for lack of a better word. A dark charcoal gray fifty-seven foot trailer attached to an upgraded Peterbilt tractor. The trailer’s license plate was from Texas, but other than a few black stenciled numbers here and there, the sides were unadorned. A number of black Chevy Suburbans were parked nearby.

Ignoring the fold-down stairs at the rear, I simply hopped up to the chest high deck and opened the steel door. A small entry-way held two doors, the one straight ahead marked ‘Comm Entry’, the one to my left marked ‘Decon’. I went left, sealing myself into the little decontamination booth. Off came my ruined, bloody clothing and into the burn chute for incineration. Needle sharp streams of hostile chemicals stripped the were blood from my body, then a slap of my hand started a more skin friendly rinse cycle of hot water. A locker in the wall held underwear, jeans and a Harley-Davidson tee shirt, which I changed into after tossing the disposable towel into the burn chute. I took the time to shave off the overgrown beard, the longer than normal hair would have to wait.

Sometime during the process of becoming less horrific looking, the realization hit me that I was pretty much fully myself. Grim was back in his doorless cell, withdrawn but still watchful. The little boy had really tripped his/my switch and that train of thought led me to think of my own family, something I only did two or three times a day. It was almost sixteen years since their murders, but the images and sounds from that night were crystal clear.

Shrugging off the thought, I exited the decon booth through the door at the back, leading me further into the Rig. The room I found myself in was dimly lit, and occupied by two communications techs, each manning enough video and computer equipment to land a shuttle. One was replaying thermal camera footage from the bar, taken by the AC-130 gunship that rode the skies overhead whenever I cleared a nest. The protocol is, I believe, for the gunship to takedown any survivors if I fail, for any reason. It hasn’t been needed yet.

A heavy two-quart mixing bowl steamed on the end of the control console nearest me. I grabbed it and started to shovel the mixture of scrambled eggs, hash browns, chopped sausage, cheese and gravy into my mouth, while watching the tech run the footage one more time.

The bar building was a gray color, slightly lighter than the desert around it, the image rotating slowly with the orbiting plane. The motorcycles were all shades of reds and orange, concentrated on the engines. I was the same bright yellow-orange as the weres that dragged me into the building, which only makes sense as my regular body temp is about one hundred and three degrees like theirs.

The footage circled the building for a few moments after everyone had entered the bar. Suddenly, the back wall exploded outward in a dust cloud of concrete and orange-red motorcycle. Almost instantly, part of the front wall blasted out, then there were three sharp, fast, flashes of light, a pause and then two more flashes. Suddenly, two blurs sped from the doorway. A streak of hot orange, a tangle of forms and then a solitary figure stood yellow bright surrounded by smaller glowing pieces. Finally, the phantasmal form slid back into the building and the tape ended. I didn’t hang out to watch the tech slow the images down, instead heading deeper into the van.

The next section took up a full third of the trailer. It also had its own outside entry through a door in the trailer’s side. Open and well lit, the multi-purpose space served as meeting room, cafeteria, planning space and with the use of pull down bunks and RV-like conversion couchs, a sometimes dormitory. Currently, it was being set up as a cafeteria by the undisputed ruler of the Rig, Mary Alice.

Stocky and tough, with short brown hair and hazel eyes, Mary Alice was somewhere near forty years of age. I don’t know her last name – never asked. I’m not sure of her background, but the Army was involved somewhere and my hunch is the CIA was on her resume as well. Mary Alice was our little group’s logistics manager, communication supervisor, back-up medic and cook. She also kept the keys to the arsenal that was contained deeper in the trailer. She ignored my nod, instead narrowing her eyes as she watched me take the now empty mixing bowl and place it in the sink of the tiny galley kitchen. I gingerly set it down and backed out of the galley. Mary Alice brooked no interlopers in her kitchen, irrespective of their ability to cleave four hundred pound monsters in half with their hands.

Satisfied that I wasn’t treading on her territory, she nodded, then spoke.

“Kids?”

“Yeah, a brother and sister. Girl’s maybe fifteen or sixteen, little boy’s about eight or nine. Can you scrounge up anything for them to wear? Looks like they got snagged in their jammies and have been living in them for days,” I said.

She gave me a level stare and snorted in derision.

I held both hands up, palms out. “Stupid question! My bad!”

Satisfied that her professional honor wasn’t being besmirched, her expression relaxed slightly.

“How big?” she asked.

“The girl’s a little bigger than Maya, but smaller than Gina. Kid brother’s about this high,” I held my hand over the floor at about four feet. “He’s maybe seventy pounds soaking wet.”

She nodded, then waved me at the door set in the side of the trailer. “Get your ass outta here Grim. They’re bringing the kids in and you’ll just either scare ‘em or leave the girl hyperventilating,” she said, dismissing me.

Most of the crew avoided speaking to me and the ones who got to see the results of my handy work smelled of fear whenever I was around. Mary Alice never did, although I knew for a fact that she had reviewed both thermal footage and aftermath video. She was gruff and brusque, but went out of her way with little touches like the bowl of food that consistently awaited me post shower. Now she wanted me gone to keep the kids from spooking. Almost made her seem soft and fuzzy. Almost. But I knew that Mary Alice had other duties, ones that included arming the mass of explosives embedded throughout the entire trailer. Those were there for me, in the event the powers that be got up the courage and desperation to try and take me out.

My relationship with Uncle Sam is a slippery one. My abilities make me a world class threat, a biological weapons system unmatched. But my will makes me rogue. The government had no leverage on me, mainly, due to the threat of Okwari, my ancient bear-god friend. He could go anywhere, anytime and fuck up anyone. Me, I’m no slouch, but I can be killed, although it’s not easy to do. My doctor tells me I’m immune to most poisons and all diseases. In the event that an assassin gets past my hyper senses, speed and strength, my body will heal all but the most catastrophic wounds at an amazing rate. Still, a heavy caliber bullet through my head, high explosives, a thermite bomb could all do the trick. The only things holding back my own government are the threat of Okwari’s revenge and their own greedy desire to know the secrets of my biology.

So I watch my watchers, like Mary Alice, and have confided in no one that my bear-god buddy has been AWOL for a month.

***

I took myself outside, pausing just long enough to grab one of my Trac fones from my locker. Moving out into the desert sand, I distanced myself from the Rig and the approaching dune buggy that would be carrying the children.

The black of night was giving way to the violet of pre-dawn. My internal clock figured it was around four AM, local time, making it two-ish in New York. I sent a text.

You there?

Then I waited. The desert may seem barren , but at night it’s a busy place. ‘Course, it helps to have eyes and ears like mine.

I watched a desert owl take a kangaroo rat, a scorpion hunt a beetle and exchanged glances with a small red fox as it trotted past my position. While I waited, my brain rolled through a list of issues.

One, I would be seeing Tanya soon. Two, the Spawn had children for hostages, that was new and disturbing. Three, my bear buddy wasn’t coming around anymore. Four, I would be seeing Tanya soon. Five, my personal demon had shattered my self-imposed barriers and still lurked just beneath the surface. Six, I would be seeing Tanya soon.

The Tanya excitement aside, the other issues were problematic. Any change in the Loki’s Spawn behavior generally happened for a reason. That reason began and ended with their leader, the mysterious were known as El Bestia – the Beast. While his minions might be deranged, psycho-killer freaks, he seemed to have some logic to his actions most of the time. We would need more information before we could figure it out and that’s the part of the partnership that General Creek’s crew excelled at.

My missing bear was cause for worry, both from a friendship point of view and from the protection his threat gave me. My unique nature is bound up in matters of God and religion, areas I avoid like plague. More than plague, ‘cause I’m immune to that.

There is some evidence to suggest that I reacted to the V-squared virus like I did because my maternal grandfather had been altered genetically by exposure to the virus during WWII. Born in Russia, he had spent a large part of his youth in an experimental Nazi prison camp, and records Tanya had reviewed showed a Japanese vampire had been a visitor to that very camp.

There is also a theory that this change in my DNA had been orchestrated by God, who further encouraged events to unfold in such a manner that I ended up with Tanya. My source for these theories is apparently a young man named Barbiel who I see whenever I enter a church, synagogue, cemetery or other holy ground. I say apparently because Barbiel is most likely an angel, albeit a rather confused one. The story goes that there is an ancient agreement between God and Lucifer, an accord. The bottom line of the agreement is that Lucifer’s demons can test and stress humans on this world, if those demons can get here. God’s part of the bargain is that he gets one Gifted human per generation to help control the demon numbers. I’m that human. Only God has tired of losing these Holy warriors too easily, and arraigned for an upgrade – me, my own freaky self. So I am a predator of predators, here to protect humans, at least protect from outright monster takeover. Barbiel explains it that life is like a boot camp for the soul, a place to grow and test our inner natures. Demons, vampires and weres are all part of that environment, only God doesn’t want it out of hand, hence my purpose in life. But protecting people from monsters doesn’t protect me from people. Those in power want more power and my variety is of particular interest. Okwari’s presence has given me protection from those I’m suppose to protect. But if ancient gods could roam our world at will, then we would be neck deep in them. So I have to wonder if Okwari’s time here is being curtailed by powers mightier than him.

His short time with me has also provided me with knowledge. My ability to form mono-edges, my limited ability to heal others, even the gliding down from a plane were all things he taught me. He also helped me control my inner demon.

Which leads me to my current condition. My much built up mental barriers were blown apart and the darkness inside was closer to the surface than ever before. Could I control it?

A sudden heat on my chest swung my attention squarely to the Tear of God jewel that hung around my neck. Shed by God when he was betrayed by Lucifer, it, along with other Tears, holds enormous amounts of his grief, sadness, anger and resolve. My setting harnessed the resolve, usually the resolve to control my inner beast. I could feel my determination solidify as the galaxy black jewel warmed noticeably over my heart.

I glanced at the phone, but no response had come. Unusual, but not unheard of. Tanya was most likely involved in serious business planning.

As current head of the New York Coven, Tanya called the shots on an enormous amount of high dollar business transactions. If New York City is a world financial center, than the NY chapter of the Coven was a center for that multi-national organization’s financial power. The Coven is ancient and everywhere, with businesses and properties in every corner of the globe. Tanya played a big role in that world-wide mesh of business. Not unusual for her to be involved in intense meetings. Nothing to worry about, right?

I headed back to the Rig. A solid twenty-five minutes had elapsed, enough time to clean up the kids and about right for breakfast. A two-quart bowl of food only goes so far, especially after a night of whup ass.

Chapter 6

The main eating/meeting area of the Rig was fairly quiet when I entered through the side door. Gina was sitting at one of the two school-cafeteria style tables, making notes on her iPad. The two children were at the other table, sitting with their backs to the wall, eating breakfast. Well, the boy, Ben, was eating breakfast. His sister, Tami was picking at her food in a desultory manner. Both heads snapped up when I came in, sudden tension visible in every line of their bodies.

I swept them with my gaze, but otherwise ignored them, figuring any attention from me would be frightening and unwanted. My one quick glance showed them to be cleaned up and wearing clothes that Mary Alice must have scrounged up quickly. The girl was wearing a blue tee shirt and a pair of khaki Capri pants, that I think belonged to Gina. The boy had on an army green tee with the SOCOM emblem on it and a pair of baggy cargo shorts that were most likely borrowed from Maya Hue.

Gina gave me a nod, then went back to her report, absently brushing her hair behind her left ear, which was her habit when thinking. I zeroed in on the stainless food warmers, filling a plate with grits, sausage, more hash browns and a giant stack of blueberry pancakes. After dousing the wobbly load liberally with maple syrup and butter, I headed to Gina’s table. Then I went back for coffee. I used to drink it black, but now I pour on the sugar and cream to add extra calories. I’m like the anti-dieter.

Digging into my second breakfast, I used my peripheral vision and sonar sense to surreptitiously watch the children watch me. Their smell of fear diminished gradually, and when Mary Alice came into the room a few minutes later, I skipped a glance over them while I looked her way. While Tami’s face was equal parts disbelief and disgust, her brother’s expression was one of awe. Apparently, he could appreciate a healthy appetite.

Mary Alice snorted as she picked up the kids plates. “Hope you two got enough, ‘cause the human garbage disposal over there won’t leave even crumbs behind!” she said. I like that she called me human.

“Awww Mary Alice! You know it just your cooking that I eat like this,” I said.

She snorted again. “Kids, if you believe that one, then I’ve got some beachfront property in Nevada to sell you.”

Gina looked up at me, ignoring the byplay. “Chris, I got you on a nine-twenty flight out of Albuquerque,” she said.

I shook my head around a mouthful of sausage, swallowed and answered her.

“These two live in Arizona. I’ll catch a flight out of Flagstaff after we dropped them off.”

“Chris, I told you I would get them home. You need to get home,” she argued.

“It’ll only take a few hours to get them home, then I’ll be on a flight and still home sometime during the night,” I responded, using a forkful of hash browns to make my point.

She didn’t answer right away, just looked at me carefully, but then she finally nodded in agreement. “I’ll see what I can do,” was her only comment.

***

The General’s team was nothing if not efficient, and the Rig was underway forty minutes later. Most of the team had had a chance to grab some of Mary Alice’s breakfast, then we headed out. The cleanup team would stay behind to finish the thermite burn of the bar. General Creek’s orders were to eradicate any evidence and all traces of the LV virus. Thermite burns at well over 3000 degrees Fahrenheit, more than adequate to reduce bone and flesh to ash.

Most of the team rode in the Suburbans, but I chose to stay in the Rig, as did Gina, the General, some of his staff, the children and, of course, Mary Alice. There were built in bunks in one wall and I claimed a lower one immediately, kicking back with earbuds in and dark glasses through which I could watch the children. I was still wondering about their presence in the nest. Ben was doodling on some paper with colored pencils that Gina had borrowed from my sketch kit. His sister was partially watching him and partially watching everything else as well. Scanning the kids with my Sight showed the basic blue aura all humans exhibit to my unique vision. But hers was streaked with black and her brother’s was speckled with it. It wasn’t the greasy black of demons but a flat, matt sort of black, like soot. The only time I had seen black on human auras it had been the greasy demon kind – first with Hance riddled drug users, then with two bounty hunter witch and warlock types.

For a teen that had been held captive by werewolves and had seen God only knows how much horror during that time, Tami Keonie was very self composed. Too composed. The black on her aura reminded me most of the witches in Owls Head park, but without the oily demon essence. The girl watched everything around her with a wary eye and she studied me most of all, when she thought I wasn’t looking.

***

I hadn’t solved any of the kids’ mysteries two hours later when we switched vehicles, climbing into one of the Chevy Suburbans for the side trip to Chinle, Arizona. The Rig and the others would continue on to whatever military base the General had selected to resupply and refit.

It took another hour to reach the little town, and we turned at Tami’s direction onto a washboard dirt driveway that led us through the scrubby vegetation for about a half mile to a little one-storey house of gray weathered wood that looked like it had been dropped haphazardly in place from a plane. A broken down split-rail fence surrounded the property with a single break at the driveway, although the fence was in such poor condition that it wouldn’t keep anything in or out.

The fence posts on either side of the driveway were capped with rather ominous looking bundles of animal skulls and feathers. Looking down the line of posts I could see other similar creepy little displays mounted like non-verbal posted signs. I recognized coyote, deer and maybe a badger among the skulls.

An old tan Toyota Corolla and an even older faded red Ford F-150 pickup were parked outside the house. Our driver pulled up twenty feet short of the Corolla, which left plenty of room to maneuver if needed. He was trained to do things like that, but I think the spooky fence decorations would have caused any driver to do the same. The place had a bad feel to it, one that intensified as we stepped out of the vehicle and into the hot Arizona sun.

The curtains on the windows had moved a little when we pulled up, but the front door exploded open as soon as the children were visible. A small, thin middle-aged woman flew out of the house and ran to Tami and Ben who met her half-way. She alternated with hugging them and inspecting them, all while warily watching Gina and our driver, Agent Perry. I hung back a bit, feeling out the energy of the place, which ranged from scary to abandon all hope. Movement in the open door of the house caught my eye as another figure moved slowly into sight. Old, weathered, and hostile were the first impressions that I got from the old man who followed the kids’ mother. Full blood Native American, dressed in jeans and a worn leather vest, his movements were crisp and smooth as he looked us over with a deep smoldering anger.

“Shi’cheii!”Ben yelled, racing from his mother to what had to be a grandfather.

I had pegged the old man as a poisonous piece of work, and his aura was almost more sooty black than blue, telling me he must have some connection to witchcraft, but his nasty demeanor cracked as the little boy wrapped his arms around his hips in a fierce hug. He hugged Ben back, then whispered in the boy’s ear. Ben immediately let go, straightened up and stood firmly by his grandfather’s side, facing us like a little warrior. They moved over to Tami and her mother, where the old man asked the girl a question in a language I couldn’t understand. His eyes never left us, while she spoke at length in the same language, gesturing back at us. His expression narrowed as he examined me, then widened, just slightly before closing back down.

Agent Perry introduced us and showed his Homeland Security I.D., which elicited a grunt from the old man, who then spoke again to the woman and children. Those three immediately headed into the house; the kids with just a single glance back.

“Mr. Nakai? I’m Gina Velasquez, I work with Agent Perry and I just wanted you to know that if the children need anything, anything at all, the government will be glad to provide it.”

He gave her a quick up and down look, in an insulting manner, then spoke.

“Get off my land!” he said directly, staring at first Gina then Agent Perry. He ignored me like I wasn’t there, but he was very aware of my presence. Then he turned around, walked back to the house and slammed the door shut, leaving us all staring after him in confusion.

“Nice guy,” Agent Perry commented, as we turned back to the Suburban.

“Yeah a real sweet old man, the very image of a grandfather,” I replied. Gina didn’t say much, but her expression told me she wasn’t done with the old man.

I took one last look around, with my Sight, expecting to see pools of darkness in and around the house, but not finding them. We then climbed into the black Chevy. Perry expertly turned the big vehicle and we left.

Chapter 7

They dropped me at the Phoenix airport, just after one PM. Gina would be following me back East after debriefing with General Creek and writing a report for the President.

Perhaps it’s a good time to layout the working relationships, such as they are. I don’t work for the government, I’m independent. Well, not exactly, as I do sorta work for the Coven. But since the government found out about me, Okwari and my relationship with Tanya, we had to set boundaries.

The U.S. government is not willing to just allow someone with my abilities to roam around the country uncontrolled. Yet controlling me would be…..difficult. Killing me would be easier (although not easy, just easier). But in this game, I hold a trump card named Okwari, who objects to anyone interfering with my freedom. Since the objections of an eldritch god are at least on par with nuclear weapons, I have some freedom. The Loki’s Spawn gang problem was one that the federal law enforcement types were not well equipped to handle. A gang of psycho weres armed with automatic weapons and utter ruthlessness is a Homeland Security nightmare. Also my nightmare, as they had attempted to kill Tanya, and it just so happened that I was loaded for were. So I was hunting them down and eliminating the problem my own way. General Creek and his crew kept the various law enforcement entities out of the fight zone and sterilized the mess when I was done. A good partnership, for now.

I had started small, eradicating Spawn members in ones, twos and threes. But after four months of that, they started to group up into nests and went to ground. It took time to find the three nests I had just cleared out, but we had wanted the Alpha from the last to get more intell on the others. Now I would just have to wait for General Creek’s connections to find me more.

Gina works as a consultant for DHS and as the President’s Advisor on all things were or vampire related. She is my intermediary with Creek. My existence is classified ‘Top Secret- Presidential’ by executive order. The entire team that supports me is only thirty-three members strong, and their top qualification for selection was their clearance level.

Gina tells me that Creek occupies a pretty high position in DHS but it is a side slot on the org chart that seems to answer more to the President than anyone else. So I don’t have any special credentials that I can flash to get out of trouble. But when my regular passport or drivers license is run, the results are interesting, as I observed again at airport security.

Invariably, my name is entered by a TSA security officer and then something on the screen makes them call for a supervisor, who then looks from the screen to me, back to the screen and finally let me through without any further hassle. This, of course, garners me even more unwanted attention. As if I didn’t get enough on my own. My vampire physician, Dr. Singh, is of the theory that just as vampires are attractive to humans to help get prey, I’m attractive to vampires for the same reason. But if you are attractive to vampires, then it appears you are also attractive to normal humans, ‘cause I get stared at wherever I go, by women and men. I am so not a good uncover type.

So I stood in line, ignoring the stares and not making eye contact, until I got to the front. The security lady scanned my boarding pass, looked at her readout, got big eyes and called her boss. He looked at the screen, checked my license, got big eyes and finally waved me forward, but kept a close eye on me while I went through the metal and explosives scanner.

I put my shoes back on and beelined for the food court. A two subs and a burrito later, I found my gate and settled down to wait for boarding while playing the agent game. The agent game is where I figure which of the travelers around me are federal agents assigned to shadow me. There are always at least three and sometimes as many as six or seven. I’m pretty sure they don’t all work for the same departments. Some belong to Creek, but others are from rival intelligence agencies who don’t like mysteries not of their own making. I’m just that kind of puzzle, I guess.

I spotted Creek’s people right away, as their clean cut appearance and dark suits practically screamed Federal agent. A crew cut blonde guy in a black suit and a dark haired lady in a blue suit were on either side of the gate sitting area, with me in between them. It didn’t hurt that I had seen them before. The others took longer.

First there was a non-descript looking gent who appeared to be in his sixties and moved with a stiff left leg. My acute vision showed just a bit of peeling latex at the point where his shirt collar met the back of his neck. Tiny really, but enough for me. I walked past him to throw away my burrito wrapper and checked his scent. Bingo! One of my regulars, who I nicknamed the Clown, as he tended to go for fake skin and noses.

Next, I picked out a woman dressed in an airline uniform, travelling with a small boy. I knew that some airlines provided that kind of service for children travelling without their parents, so that was innocent enough. But the studious way she ignored my existence was telling. I’m not conceited, honestly, I’m not. But my appearance always gets at least some attention, even from people not attracted to me. I’m a freak that way. But this lady was too careful not to look me.

The last one was my old friend, Clouseau, as I like to think of him. He is always the most difficult to spot as his elaborate disguises actually work, unlike his cinematic namesake. But what he doesn’t realize is my sense of smell will always give him away. Even disguised as a small, chubby Hispanic woman in a floral print dress, like he was today.

Of all my watchers, I deem Clouseau the most dangerous. A small man, he is extraordinarily gifted at assuming diverse personas and I know he is fluent in at least three languages. That degree of skill and tradecraft most likely carry forward into more dangerous aspects of his trade, in my opinion. He would make a deadly assassin and my only ace is my sense of smell.

The gate attendants announced boarding, beginning with First Class. Since that’s one of my Coven perks, I got on board before most of the passengers waiting for the flight. But interestingly enough, my five watchers (and the small boy) all were flying First Class as well.

Go figure.

I settled into my seat and checked my phone. I had a text from Tanya.

Sorry. In meetings all night. Are you there?

Then a second one time marked five minutes later.

You’re not. Sleeping? Or in a no phone zone? I’m headed to bed, see you tonite!

One of those little heart symbols that I can never figure out how to send was at the end. I must have been in a bad reception ‘pocket’ when she sent those and was just getting them now. I sent a reply with my estimated time of arrival in NYC and then dutifully turned off my phone.

Earbuds in I settled back for a nap. We cleared the gate, waited in queue, then took off smoothly.

First class seats are great, nice and wide, but somehow still not wide enough for me to avoid getting bumped on the shoulder by the flight attendants. Just gentle little hip bumps accompanied by slightly apologetic smiles. I guess I could always take a window seat, but I like to be on the aisle.

Our flight was smooth up until we were about an hour from JFK, that’s when the crazy guy started up. He had been sitting in regular class, up near the doorway to First class. I became aware when I heard his voice, yelling about God and the Devil. The flight attendant who kept brushing me was attempting to deal with him. Then he pulled a plastic knife.

It wasn’t the kind you have at picnics, but a much more substantial one, made from Zytel or some other fiberglass reinforced plastic. Fear swept the plane like a grass fire. I turned in my seat to watch the drama, thinking I should stay out of it. After all, there were all kinds of agents on board. But then the tall, skinny dude grabbed hold of a little girl about Toni’s age and I changed my mind. I also broke the dude’s wrist in four places, crushed nine hand bones and slammed his face into the aisle floor. I tried to go slow, but the flight attendant was between me and the crazy guy, so I kinda went up and over her, Clinging to the ceiling for a bit of fast crawling, then twist-flipping and dropping in front of her. That part, that little twisted gymnastic part, I did fast. Since everybody had been concentrating on the dude, they mostly ignored me. Mostly. As I asked for something to bind the nutcase’s good arm to his broken one, I noticed Clouseau watching me with a thoughtful gaze on his womanly features. Damn!

***

The blond crew-cut guy flashed ID and took charge of the nut job, while I tried to slink back to my seat. The flight attendant that had the misfortune of dealing with the situation quietly had a minor meltdown in the galley, comforted by one of her coworkers and the co-pilot who had come out of the armored cockpit. My fellow passengers and the other attendants kept up a running stream on congratulations, in her absence.

“Wow that was terrifying! Were you scared? I almost peed myself!” from a middle-aged lady in First Class.

“That was amazing! You got there so fast and then he was just down! You a soldier?” from a businessman nearby.

“Thank you! Thank you for saving my daughter!” from the mom of the little girl.

And so on. I just nodded a lot and smiled back even more, wishing for a desk to hide under, while trying to ignore Clouseau’s pondering glances. My flight attendant came back on duty and then I had to deal with her questions.

“I can’t thank you enough, what you did was very dangerous and heroic,” she gushed. “But how did you get by me? It almost felt like you went over me somehow?”

“Well ma’am, I had to squeeze by you on the right, but you were really focused on the guy, doing a great job by the way. But your senses do funny things in times like that and I’m sure it seemed like I came out of nowhere,” I explained, letting her mind rationalize the rest.

The pilot announced we would be continuing on to JFK after reviewing the situation with ground controllers, as it made little sense to divert the flight at this point and we were less then forty minutes out.

***

Chapter 8

Enduring the rest of the flight was just something to get through, like Geometry in High School. We were given priority clearance to land and TSA air marshals swarmed onto the plane to take charge of the prisoner. Then we were held up as General Creek’s agents worked to clear up the confusion. I kept as low a profile as possible, showing my DHS consultant’s ID and letting crew-cut do the talking. Three hours later I was free and I wasted no time texting Tanya, but she didn’t answer. Frustrated and worried, I started for the Coven’s new headquarters. We call it Citadel, in a laughing sort of way. Buried deep in the old tunnels under Manhattan, it was a project the Coven undertook just after WWII when the vampires realized how dangerous technology had become. Something about the mushroom clouds in Japan really got their attention.

Citadel occupies large portions of forgotten and closed subway tunnels, along with newly carved sections and even some from before Prohibition. Carefully planned and constructed, Citadel would be a death trap for invaders and it is woven around and through the infrastructure of America’s financial capital, making it an expensive target to bomb. The Elders activated it as headquarters after the events in Washington Square Park last Spring. It was then that they realized how aware the U.S. government was of their existence, and following that meeting, the President ended up even more informed, this time by the vampires themselves.

Additional protocols were put in place, one of which is that the two Elders would not be present in New York at the same time. Other, more extensive redoubts are located around the world, particularly in countries where the vampires have more, albeit secret, control of those countries’ governments.

Getting into Citadel is not easy and involves me losing my followers before entering the labyrinth. I always use the same entrance, working under the assumption that it’s only a matter of time before the feds figure it out. The doorway I use is a throwaway spur, accessed in Central Park, and it will be severed by high explosives the first time the men in black suits come to call.

I’m not a trained spy so my techniques for losing skilled operators depend on my non-human abilities. I also have to keep technology in mind. Satellites can distinguish my thermal profile from regular humans because of my higher body temperature. Tiny RFID tags and GPS tracker bugs infest my clothing on a regular basis. My secret weapon against this is named Chet. Between us we’ve figured out how I can use my aura to burn out the bugs and how to use the city’s terrain to foil satellites. We also have access to clothing treatments that reduce thermal signature.

So I left JFK by taxi, after releasing an electronics melting aura burst, and got off in Chinatown, dropped down into the subway, picked up the Northbound line, then shifted to a Southbound train, picked up an IR reduced jacket, pants and hat hidden in the ceiling of a men’s room and headed up to the street. Keeping close to buildings and using carefully metered bursts of speed, I crisscrossed lower Manhattan, before taking a final subway line till I reached the Central Park North (110 St.) station. Now well past midnight, I carefully broke one of the City’s prime rules – I entered Central Park at night.

Really, though, the druggies and muggers were in a lot more danger from me than I was from them. I have a low tolerance for thugs. But discretion is supposed to be the better part valor, and I avoided all of the Park’s human predators without detection or causing any of them to lose body parts.

Moving South, I finally came to my target – Central Park Zoo. Getting into the locked down zoo was easy and I moved to the Polar Bear exhibit. I jumped into the bear enclosure and moved to the rocky mini-mountain, nodding at one of the bears (Gus I think) as I went by. Both of the bears know my scent and ignore my comings and goings, behavior I attribute to professional courtesy extended to Okwari’s only human (quasi) friend.

Finding the particular section of fake rock I was looking for, I pressed my right palm against it. A very sophisticated biometric sensor read my signature and a small, but very dense section popped open. When the Polar Circle exhibit was built, the vampires arraigned for the construction of this rather special modification. Since they owned the construction company doing the work, it wasn’t hard to accomplish.

Descending a spiral staircase I came to an archway where the new construction of the zoo tunnel met a passageway carved in the thirties. Build by a wealthy family whose home bordered the park, the tunnel had served to help facilitate the movement of illegal liquor. Traversing this dimly lit cavern led me to an abandoned subway spur and then new construction. Each step had twenty-first century technology in the form of biometric identification sensors that I had to satisfy before moving on. Failure at any of these checkpoints would be bad. The least of them would simply fail to open a steel door, the worst would set off claymore mines or incendiaries.

After a solid forty minutes I came to the first manned checkpoint, guarded by two of Arkady’s security vamps. They identified me by the simple expedient of smelling me, then waved me on into Citadel proper. The tunnels were broader here, with the occasional busy vamp on some errand or other. These folk all knew me or knew of me so I got a simple nod or quiet greeting as I passed them. Deeper into the Coven’s headquarters I came across one of Tanya’s administrative people.

“Hey Lexy, any idea where Tanya is?” I asked the young redhead.

“She’s down in the Queen’s Chamber,” she answered with a questioning look.

Her bewilderment was understandable, as my “Tanya sense”, that bond that connected me to her mentally, should have been leading me unerringly in the right direction. Tanya’s ability to sense me is more powerful, with miles of signal strength, but mine was strong enough that I should have been getting a read of some type. The lack of connection had me nervous and on edge, emotions that the hyper perceptive vampire also picked up on.

I thanked her and headed for the so called “Queen’s Chamber”, a large reception room that had been designed for meeting visiting delegations of vampires. Intended to impress visitors, the room had quickly been dubbed Queen’s Chamber by the younger Coven members who felt my natural born vampire was their own version of royalty.

Finding the chamber was easy, if time consuming, and I quickly approached the giant entry doors, each of which was ten feet tall and six feet wide. Two security guys guarded the doors, one of which I knew. The other, who must have been new, raised his hand to stop me. Silly vampire.

“Hold, human,” he said with all the self importance of a mall security cop.

I looked at his partner. “He’s kidding right?”

This one shrugged, hands up and moved away from his partner with a quick “Connor, you might want to get out of the Queen’s Chosen’s way before he moves you himself!”

Eyes wide with sudden comprehension, Connor moved aside just before I would have ‘moved’ him. He was only doing his job, but among Darkkin, as vamps call themselves, you never, never show indecision.

“Excuse me, Mr. Gordon, “ he said, showing he had, at least, been briefed.

I just gave him a tight lipped smile and opened the right hand door. My nerves were completely on edge with my failure to sense my girl’s presence.

The scene that greeted me was the realization of all my fears. My eyes passed over the opulent carpeting and carefully luxurious décor of the large rectangular room with the vaulted concrete ceiling to a large group of vampires (twenty-one, some portion of my brain instantly supplied) that was arrayed in front of Tanya’s much smaller group (seven). Arkady, security chief for the New York Coven, was in his rightful place by her side with three of his men lining the wall behind them. Lydia, Tanya’s defacto sister and right hand, was by her right hand. Galina, Tanya’s mother, was standing in front of her with the visitors, smiling fondly while observing the handsome man who was holding my girl in his arms while kissing her.

They all turned to look at me with expressions ranging from annoyance to anger (this on the foreign bodyguard looking types) to bemused interest (on the handsome man with his arms around my vampire) to shock (on Tanya’s beautiful features) to pride(?) on Galina’s face.

But all that went through my mind was “Crap, not again!”

Chapter 9

“Christian?” Tanya said, her face reflecting shock at my presence. Her sense should have warned her of my approach from across the city. She disengaged from the handsome vamp’s embrace and turned to look at me fully.

Internally, I was fighting to understand what I was seeing, the raw Grim side of me wanting to destroy the vampire who dared lay hands on my mate, while my logical side was trying to make heads or tails of the lack of connection.

Lydia, whose wide eyes were reading my internal struggle in my body’s language, let out a heartfelt “Oh shit!”

I controlled my personal demon long enough to utter “I can’t feel you?”

“I can’t feel you either!” my heart’s owner said.

Some small part of my brain that retained the last bit of logic I had, took charge and used my Sight to scan Tanya. Her normally pure white aura was masked by a flat black cocoon of writhing darkness that extended three tendrils of smoky rope to three women in the visitors’ party. Instantly I recognized them as human, and almost as fast, I realized they were witches.

My right hand slashed a burst of aura that severed the ropes, while my left pulled on the cocoon that enshrouded Tanya. The matte black of their magic tore and shredded, evaporating like clingy,inky steam. The three women cried out, and fell, while Tanya and I both sucked in air as the bond that connects us slammed into place.

Things got dicey after that. The visitors’ chief of security, a tall pale blonde male with flat black eyes, started to pull a gun, his men following suit. I had been standing on the edge of violence since entering the room, now I started the slide into the abyss, ready and eager to kill. Arkady and his men started to fan out around their queen and then just as Grim slid into control, Tanya spoke.

“Ostanovit!” hissed from her mouth. All motion in the room ceased instantly. I was only vaguely aware that the word meant stop, but my body had already responded.

As vampires age, they often develop abilities or powers. Physically the equal in speed and strength as a thousand year old vampire, Tanya, at almost twenty-four, had just started to develop additional powers. Chief among them was this ability to use sound as a weapon. She could focus her voice to punch a hole through steel, or as now, enforce a command at an almost cellular level, if only for a few seconds.

Seconds are like minutes in vampire combat and as the rest of the room froze, she blurred across the room to hold my face in her hands. Moments flickered as our bond fed information back and forth with a clarity that words would always lack.

She faced the rest of the Darkkin, who were only now relaxing from her verbal stun.

“You blocked my bond with my Chosen, Uncle?” she directed at the handsome man.

“Uncle?” I asked, suddenly realizing the man looked remarkably like Galina.

“Ere, Chosen? No, no dear niece, I only sought to have the blood bond that you and I share masked. My visit is a surprise, no? And you always know when I’m in the same building, so we thought to…what is the word?....dampen it,” he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand.

He was several inches taller than Galina, with the same color brown hair.

“Uncle?” I asked again.

Tanya turned back to me, her cerulean eyes locking my gaze, a slightly apologetic smile flickering across her features.

“Christian, this is my Uncle Illarion, mother’s blood brother,” she said.

I looked at him, and wondered at siblings turned vampire while he smiled, thinly, bowing just slightly forward at the waist.

“My apologies, Christian. I had no intentions of blocking your Chosen bond. I was informed that you were still quite far away?” he questioned, turning to look at his sister.

“My fault!” Lydia piped up. “When I checked your flight status, it showed delayed, with no explanation. I thought there would be time to pull off this surprise for Tanya,” she finished with a grimace.

The blonde security guy spoke in icy tones from where he was examining the groaning witches.

“Lord, they appear to be shocked, perhaps a backlash of some type,” he said, his black eyes flickering in my direction.

“Tanya, your Chosen is a witch?” Illarion asked in puzzlement.

Galina snorted. “No brother dear, he is much more than that,” she asserted, that weird look of pride back on her face. Creepy. My mother-in-law of sorts had never expressed a positive opinion of me before.

“But he seems so human, and, so sorry my dear, but he smells delicious!” Illarion said in a the manner of a one who likes to put others off balance.

Beside me, Tanya tensed, and my connection to her fed me a flash of anger, annoyance and then, sudden determination. Uh oh! I didn’t know what she was going to do, but I sensed drastic as the operative word.

“Arkady! Who do you serve?” she questioned the six and a half foot tall giant.

“You, Young Queen!” he answered instantly.

“And you obey my orders?”

“Always, Young Queen!”

“Then obey this one – Kill Christian – now!” she said, stepping away from me.

Okay, I didn’t see that one coming at all. Even with the mate bond. And I almost didn’t see Arkady coming either, my brain being caught up in trying to decipher her words. In fact, I was completely unready to deal with the deadly mountain of vampire that was pulling twin foot-long blades from hidden sheaths behind his back and rushing in my direction.

But Grim was ready, more than ready, not having had any barriers since the barroom slaughter of the weres. So, my body was moving almost as the words left her mouth. As my feet left the ground, my mate bond with Tanya gave me one more piece of information – she didn’t want me to kill Arkady.

Chapter 10

Arkady and I have sparred many times, and he has watched me spar with Tanya many more times than that. He knew my favored techniques, my weaknesses and my bad habits. He was ready for me to go up and over, which I tend to do when surprised. But neither he nor Tanya had ever fought Grim before.

I flipped sideways, behind Tanya and to Arkady’s left, bounced off the right hand wall, lashed his left hand knife blade with an aura whip that ended in a section of mono-edge. He was ten feet away and suddenly the hardened steel bowie separated from its hilt like an overripe tomato skin, the foot long piece of glittering metal chiming as it hit the floor.

My wall bounce took me behind Arkady who was turning to his left, his remaining right hand blade trailing behind. I planted my feet, Clinging to the marble floor for traction, and closed with the pale giant. My left hand Pulled a granite bench from its place along the other wall, flinging it directly at my left hand which, armored with aura, was blocking Arkady’s surviving knife. The vampire’s arm was sandwiched between the heavy stone projectile and the diamond hard armor, crushing it completely. My right arm had come up against his cabled neck, applying pressure against it down and to the left, adding momentum to his spin, but redirecting it. The energy from the bench’s impact, combined with his spin led him down. The fact that my body was Posted in position with enough force to stop a truck helped him along. I landed on top of his massive chest, my right hand now mono-edged and at his throat, his hand with the bladeless hilt smashing into my ribs.

“Stop!” this time in English.

Part of me noted that my cessation of motion was voluntary this time. Either Tanya hadn’t included me in the command, or Grim wasn’t responsive to her power. Nonetheless I didn’t cut the giant’s head off.

“Arkady, my order to kill is retracted!” Tanya said.

His yellow eyes were locked on mine, the tightness of his skin betraying his fear.

“Christian, please don’t kill Arkady,” she requested from beside me.

I let the moment still, then surged to my feet and moved away from them both, too angry to speak. It was my own anger though, not Grim fueled rage.

“Extraordinary!” Illarion said.

Tanya was watching me, but I wouldn’t meet her eyes, instead concentrating on de-edging my hand and pulling my Grim side back from the killing edge. What the fuck was that about!

“You ordered your own man to kill your Chosen?” Illarion questioned.

“I ordered him to try,” she responded. “He wasn’t going to be able too, but I needed to prove to you and your people that Christian isn’t a tasty snack!”

“In fact my dear brother, my daughter’s mate could have easily killed your entire party if things had gone…badly when he first entered the room,” Galina supplied.

“Come now Galina! I’ll admit that was impressive, but my entire party?”

“He dropped a four hundred year old warrior in less than a second. Much less,” Galina continued. “Chris, how many weres have you killed in the last twenty-four hours?”

I almost didn’t answer, still struggling with my anger, which Tanya most certainly felt along our link. But I could also feel her apology, as well as her intention.

“Seventeen,” I said.

“How many at the same time?”

“Seventeen,”

“And how many to date, total?”

“Two hundred, ninety-eight, no, three hundred and one, counting the cage fight,” I clarified.

“Over what time frame?” Lydia asked.

“About five months,” I said.

Arkady flipped back to his feet, holding his right arm stiffly as the crushed bones repaired themselves, the torn skin healing in seconds. I grabbed the surviving knife from the floor and handed it to him, hilt first. He met my eyes, nodded and moved back behind Tanya, as if nothing had happened. His nod and glance had been guy code for ‘Sorry I tried to kill you, but you know how it is and thanks for not beheading me.’

I spun on my heel and headed back out the doors I had entered through. I made it two steps into the entry way when a mack truck hit me from behind, spinning me and pushing me back against the wall. Two slim white arms held me in place with the force of hydraulic rams, while liquid blue eyes stared deep into mine.

“Christian, I’m sorry about that, but I knew Arkady couldn’t kill you and I needed you to demonstrate your abilities,” Tanya said, her voice soft.

The two guards were stone still and wide eyed as they watched us.

“You had to order your Chief of Security to kill me? Really?” I said, sarcastic despite feeling her remorse through her bond.

“Yes,” was her answer. “You’ve been gone for three weeks. Visitors are asking about you and hinting at disbelief that you are more than my dinner. Illarion is my blood uncle, but he is a vampire through and through. He sees weakness as opportunity. Now he sees strength and more importantly, he will tell others. Illarion Demidov’s word is respected among Darkkin.”

“When did you plan this?” I asked.

“I didn’t. It occurred to me when Illarion spoke how you smelled. My uncle can be….difficult,” she answered simply.

Actually, it was rather brilliant in a ruthless sort of way. Not only had she established that I was capable of protecting myself to a large group of European vampires, but she had also added to her own reputation as a leader. Being cold enough to order your bodyguard to kill your lover to prove a point would only raise her esteem among Darkkin. And her bond was assuring me that she had really only feared for Arkady’s life. I also sensed a tiny amount of shock at the speed with which I had defeated the giant. She had only seen the Grim side of me in action once, and she had been rather busy at the time.

My anger dribbled away as I searched her eyes and saw the truth of her statements. Loving a vampire isn’t like loving a regular human. The quintessential vampire is a consummate predator. And like werewolves, Darkkin have a pack-like status structure. Strength and ability are rewarded and revered. Weakness is reviled. Actually, it’s like human society on steroids and without any hint of kindness. And Tanya had been born vampire, so the qualities of ruthlessness, decisiveness, and strength were embedded at the cellular level.

“So you came up with that little….scene on the spur of the moment?” I asked.

“Pretty much, and don’t be mad but it will also have the benefit of making my leadership more locked in.”

“Yeah, I figured that one out. Listen, I’m gonna get something to eat, then crash. You got company to take care of,” I said.

She just stared at me, a little smile lifting the corners of her perfect mouth.

“They can wait,” she said, searching my eyes. “Lydia was calling Remy when I left so we can grab your snack on the way to our rooms and then I can grab a bite, too!”

I laughed, despite myself. Clever girl. Well, feeding Tanya is one of my favorite things to do, especially as it’s usually accompanied by mind-blowing sex. Hey, maybe this would count as make-up sex?

Chapter 11

I woke well past noon the next day. Tanya and I had a small suite of rooms whose concrete construction was masked, at least in part, by a vast array of Turkish carpets, and hanging tapestries, as well as countless pillows, loveseats, overstuffed chairs and a couple of sofas.

The extra seating is vital, as we are usually neck deep in Tanya’s inner circle. Lydia, Nika (when she’s there) and about a dozen others. They are drawn to her and to some degree, me, and as the Coven is in low profile mode, it seems we are forever hosting movie night or game night or some other form of gathering. Odd doesn’t begin to cover movie night with vampires. They watch everything – everything but vampire movies. Actually, they don’t watch much horror either, the blood makes them antsy. Comedies, chick flicks, natural disaster, espionage, some sci fi. The odd part is that they won’t always favor the natural protagonist, but will actively root for the villain, especially if the hero is as Lydia puts it – ‘Too stupid to live”.

As I woke, I realized that we weren’t alone. Several others were snuggled around us, all female. That happens fairly often as well. They give us our alone time, but then they want to cluster in like kittens in a box. It took a while for me to get used to going to bed with my girl and waking in a pile of others. Tanya explained its part of vampire nature to seek contact with others of your coven. And being a charismatic full blood princess seems to strengthen the draw. She says they don’t mind my AB+ odor either.

I dragged myself into clothes and then made coffee in the other room. I didn’t work especially hard at being quiet, as the mere presence of the sun above the city would push the vampires, even Tanya, into a deep narcotic sleep. Being underground didn’t stop them from feeling the Sun’s effect, although vampires can stay awake if needed, like a college kid pulling an all-nighter to study.

Hungry as always, I unwrapped a Lupine Pemmican bar and munched on it while sipping my coffee. This one was venison with dried cranberries mixed in. Yummm! The little Pack that lived next to my gramp’s farm was now producing a complete line of modern pemmican bars for hikers, kayakers, extreme athletes, and lately, military. As part owner, I got my own supply, which gave me a very stable, always handy source of dense calories to appease my insatiable appetite.

Checking my laptop’s calendar function, I almost spit out my coffee when I realized what day it was. Tuesday, the beginning of the second week of classes at Columbia University. That was only important if you were a student or professor, but as I had signed up for a class and missed the first week, it was important to me. Mostly because of Chet’s urging, I was taking a Mysticism class in the university’s religion department, ideally to help me understand the many odd things in my world, like Okwari, demons and the angel named Barbiel.

Immediately, all my second thoughts surfaced. God and I didn't see eye to eye. Why did I need to delve deeper? But even as I thought this, I couldn't help but be a little intrigued by the class. I had gone ahead and purchased all four of the required textbooks, two of which were by the course instructor. Chet spoke highly of Wade Pitcairn, who at thirty-four was already a full professor. During my three weeks of Loki hunting I had spent my down time reading the course material and the reference books. I had to admit to a certain level of interest.

Emerging from the suite; showered, and dressed, I thought about bagging the class altogether as I made myself brunch in one of the kitchens. But I had found a note in my course packet from Tanya, wishing me luck on 'my first day back to school', as well as a new Columbia University sweatshirt laid out with my clothes. She was excited that I was pursuing something other than Loki Spawn and the fact that I would be attending her alma matter didn't hurt. Tanya had a business degree from Columbia, something that continued to floor me every time I thought about it. Not that she wasn't smart enough to do it, hell, she was much, much smarter about finance and business than anyone I'd ever met. The part that boggled me was the idea of her sitting in a classroom or lecture hall, and not completely disrupting the course. Especially, as all this had occurred during her silent phase, when she never spoke a word for fifteen years. Lydia explained that most of the work was done online, with correspondence and with private tutors. She had attended some night classes and lectures, but had been accompanied by Lydia and other Darkkin. Her appearance had been dimmed down by use of hooded sweatshirts, ball caps and even a few wigs. Somehow, I doubted that did much to dull her appearance.

After my meal, I packed my bookbag, including a heaping supply of pemmican bars and bottled water. Then I jacked a Segway from the fleet that the coven uses and traveled the Citadel's tunnels, eventually exiting into the subway system by way of a camouflaged entrance inside a men's room. I hopped a train for two stations and exited at the Columbia stop at 116th and Broadway. Emerging into the mid-afternoon September sun, I walked the campus, taking my sweet time getting to Hamilton Hall where the class was held. It was a bit surreal being back on a university campus, even more so because I was definitely attracting much more attention than I used to, even wearing a baggy sweatshirt and jeans.

My course schedule, which listed exactly one course, noted a room on the fifth floor. Climbing the four flights of stairs brought me to the doorway of a large lecture hall five minutes before the class was scheduled to start. Wondering why a full lecture hall was needed for a lower level religion class, I entered only to find the class almost full. Not only that, but the front rows of desks were all occupied, and almost exclusively by females. Walking between the rows to get to few seats still open at the back of the room, I tried to ignore the looks my odd appearance was generating. Being indoors, I wasn't wearing sunglasses and despite my best attempts otherwise, I was still forced to make eye contact several times before I could plunk down in an open chair. Damn violet eyes! The room was too warm for my higher than normal body temperature, so I shucked my sweatshirt and hung it over the back of my chair. The guy next to me nodded in a relaxed sorta way so I nodded back . Guy code is so simple.

Digging out my notebook and pen, I organized myself, then looked up at the clock mounted near the door. That action brought to my attention the fact that at least fifteen female faces were turned in my direction. Luckily, the next person through the door distracted my observers, so I assumed he was Professor Pitcairn. Tall, lean and blonde, he ignored the class as he organized his lecture material. The front rows of girls locked their attention on him, with the ones further back craning to get a look. Ahh, that was the reason for the high class numbers.

“Before we get started, I want to remind you that today is the last day to drop classes,” he said in a deep voice. “Anyone? No, huh?”

That was met with laughter.

“Okay next we need to address a couple of names who didn't attend last week and I assume have already dropped,” he said. He read off a couple of names with no response from the class, but when he read my name, I spoke up with a loud “Here!”

This engendered another round of heads turned in my direction, but it was the professor's response that was interesting.

“Gordon?” he clarified, his head snapping up to find me in the sea of faces.

“That's me,” I agreed.

“Mr. Gordon, you completely missed the first week of class. I assumed you would be dropping out,” he said, his tone brusque.

“Well Professor, you know what they say about assuming?” I replied before I could catch myself.

I really don't respond well to aggression in any form.

Now I really had his attention.

“Mr. Gordon, skipping class is not going to get you far in this course,” he said. “It may be that this is the wrong choice of an elective for you.”

“Actually, Professor Pitcairn, I was absent for work,” I replied. “ And the course isn't an elective.”

“Work? Just what work do you do, Mr. Gordon, that you would miss the entire first week of your courses.”

“I consult with the federal government,” I said. “And this is my only class.”

Now he was really surprised, struggling with which statement to tackle first. No teacher likes to look bad in front of his or her class, but I could tell Pitcairn was really adverse to it and his admirers in the front of the class were looking back and forth between us like a tennis match.

“You consult with the government?” he made it sound like an insult. “No wonder they're doing such a wonderful job! But what could you possibly consult with them about, you can’t be more than a few years older than these undergrads?”

That made the whole class laugh, and I felt like I was back in high school all over again. Only things were different this time around. I wasn't the same awkward kid I used to be.

“I know what you mean, despite my best advice they still make useless grants for idiot research by academics trying to milk the taxpayer,” I replied. “Oh, and I’m in conflict resolution, if it matters.”

Chet had told me about how Pitcairn had received a grant to study altered states of consciousness at a sub-particle level as it pertained to religion, something that fit his undergraduate degree in physics to a tee.

He frowned. “Mr. Gordon, before I dismiss you from my class, can I ask why this is your only course?”

I started to pack my stuff, figuring I was getting dropped, while part of me wondering why I had tried to do something normal.

“Yeah, an idiot named Chet who thinks you walk on water, strongly suggested that I take your course.”

“Chet? Would this Chet have a last name?” he asked, interested.

“Aikens, but you can read about him in his obituary,” I said, starting to stand. A couple of people laughed.

“Hold on a moment. Chet Aikens suggested you take my class?” he asked, then continued at my nod.

“How do you know Chet?”

“Work,” I answered.

“At his old job with the NYPD or his new one that he won't tell me about?” he asked, his tone completely different.

“Both,” I said, looking back with an indifferent gaze.

“I see,” he said thoughtfully, completely distracted from the rest of the class. That in itself was pretty impressive as there were an extraordinary number of very attractive girls hanging on our conversation.

I was having a hard time ignoring them, but I had my anger to help.

“Mr. Gordon, if Chet thinks this is the class for you, then we’ll see how it goes. I won't be asking you to leave after all,” he said, before turning his attention back to the class. I figured that was as close to an apology as I would be likely to get. I settled back in, trying to ignore the stares I was still getting. I was still angry, but it was all my own, with nothing of the Grim-fueled rage that could decimate an entire campus.

Pitcairn launched into a lecture about mysticism in America and its roots in Native American shamanism and the European spirituality movement from the eighteen hundreds. He was a somewhat arrogant speaker, but engaging none the less. I actually enjoyed the class, particularly the parts concerning Native American beliefs, as my best guess had Okwari as the de facto Great Spirit Bear. Pitcairn displayed an extensive knowledge of both Christianity and the religious beliefs of the Native Americans. The hour flew by, while I generated a list of questions to ask at a later date.

Suddenly, class was over and it was time to leave. I noticed most of the female students staying back or moving up to where Pitcairn stood gathering his notes. None seemed in a hurry to leave and several were paying more attention to me than the professor. The guy contingent booked for the door and I edged around a couple of smiling girls, intent on making my own escape.

“Mr. Gordon, do you have a moment?” Pitcairn asked.

I changed direction and moved into his sphere of activity, where his petitioners all stopped to observe our conversation.

“You mentioned that Chet suggested my class and that it's your only class. Can I ask what you're hoping to take away from it?” he asked.

Talk about a complicated question. How do you tell someone that you want to find out your role in God's army, your relationship to angels and what the deal is with your prehistoric elder god giant short-faced bear friend?

“Er, well, it's really complicated, but let's just say I have questions that standard religious sources haven’t been able to provide answers to,” I responded, thinking to buy some time. Oddly enough, it seemed to work. He slowly nodded, then after a quick glance at our enthralled audience, he spoke. “Chet mentioned a friend of his with some rather......extraordinary ….circumstances. I think that might be you?” he questioned.

“I doubt he has any odder friends than me!” I agreed, uncomfortable with the attention, while wondering what Chet had said..

“Maybe we can talk sometime?” he suggested.

“Possibly,” I allowed.

I slid out of the room, still thinking about the class and its instructor. While he couldn’t have all my answers, his knowledge and connections would be really helpful in deciphering some of my issues. The guy was not what I expected though. Arrogant and apparently good-looking, to judge by the girls behavior, I could see why Chet idolized him. My geeky pal was always looking to be the player.

I headed back toward the subway entrance, but my goal was a Chinese takeout place called Ollie’s whose aromas had hit me upside the head when I arrived an hour ago. As I walked my appreciation of the campus was broken by the feeling I was being followed. I kept looking straight ahead, but extended my other senses. My hearing picked up snippets of conversation all around me, but from directly behind me I heard, “hurry up, we don’t want to lose him!” a female voice said. That was met with a giggle, then, “yeah, we so need to find out more about him! I feel like a creeper!” another female voice agreed. “Did you see his eyes?” another said.

I relaxed a bit, realizing that it was a couple of the girls from class, obviously intrigued by my exotic appearance. I could lose them after I snacked a bit at Ollie’s.

Much bigger and nicer on the inside than I expected, Ollie’s was just what I needed. The staff seemed a bit standoffish, but the seafood and noodle soup was great. They also had sesame pancakes which I had never tried.

Eating gave me time to surreptitiously study my stalkers. There were three of them, a blonde, a redhead and a brunette, almost the beginning of a joke. They were all seated where they could study me. They were very young, probably all freshmen, although the redhead carried herself like she was older. I had about decided they were harmless when my dark side perked up. It wasn't the girls who tripped Grim's switch, but rather a slender young man with a Yankees sweatshirt and faded cargo pants. I couldn't decide his ethnicity, his skin tone between olive and mocha, although his features were somewhat Middle Eastern. He was studying a book, eating soup and completely ignoring everyone around him so I couldn't figure out what had raised my hackles. But after a moment it hit me. He had been in the subway station when I had arrived before class. In and of itself, that wasn't suspicious as the Columbia station was a busy place for students, which he appeared to be. Still, something about him seemed hinky.

“Excuse me, I think you're in my Mysticism class?” a voice spoke next to me. I looked up to see it was one of the three girls, the redhead with the self-assured poise. I had been so busy watching the dude that I hadn't registered her approach, at least not consciously. Part of me, the Grim part, seems to have been aware but not alarmed.

“Er..yeah I'm in Mysticism,” I said, caught off guard.

She smiled, while her friends watched anxiously from their booth.

“Well, I'm Kelsey and I just wanted to introduce myself, you know, in case you need notes or something,” she said. Dressed in a jean mini-skirt and a blue top she was very pretty.

“Oh, okay, thanks. I'm Chris,” I said.

“Yes, I know,” she said. “You made quite an impression on Professor Pitcairn.”

“I suppose I did,” I said. “Some academic types rub me the wrong way, I'm not usually so...snide with lecturers.”

“You said in class that you work for the government?”

“I said I consult with the government, but I'm between jobs for a while,” I answered hoping to find a new conversational direction soon.

“Tell me what did I miss last week?” I asked before she could get in her next question.

“Well, quite a bit actually,” she smiled, “but I have really good notes if you want to copy them.”

“You know, that's a good idea. Could I see them?” I asked, standing up to follow her back to her table.

That caught her a little by surprise but she rallied and smiled at her friends as she led me to her table.

“This is Molly,” pointing at the brunette, “and Jamie.”

Molly was the tallest, a fact obvious, even while she was sitting down, and cute in a girl next door sorta way. Jaime was a cheerleader type, who while technically pretty, wore too much makeup and her hair color had come from a bottle. I smiled and let Kelsey sit. She dug around her bookbag and produced her notebook, which had about six pages of clear, well organized notes. I pulled out my iPhone and took pictures of each page, an action that she hadn't anticipated, based on the surprised look on her face. I finished up and pocketed the phone, while complimenting her on the completeness of her note taking. Then my phone buzzed and I answered it. “Hey, what's up?” I said into the silent phone. The buzzing was the three minute alarm app I had started when I cranked up the camera. “Oh? Look, I'm done with class, I can hop on the subway and be there in twenty or thirty minutes, okay?”

“I'll see you in a few, bye,” I pretended hang up.

“Listen, my work contact needs something, so I gotta hop. Thanks so much for the notes, I’ll see you guys on Thursday,” I told the girls.

Smiling apologetically, I waved as I headed out of Ollie’s.

Just as I boarded my train I noticed the Middle Eastern guy on the platform, boarding the same train. I got off at the next station and hopped a train in the other direction, keeping my eye on him as his train pulled away.

Chapter 12

Tanya and Lydia met me at the entrance to Citadel. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t used one of my regular entrances or hadn’t known which one I was going to end up using. Tanya had tracked me unerringly across the City, never once losing my ‘signal’. Both girls were kinda hopped up, and while they fired questions at me were about class, the presence of a bag of men’s clothes in the back of the stretch golf cart told me we were going out. The fact that they were dressed to the nines might have given it away as well. Tanya wore a flowing blue dress that made her eyes pop even more than normal, as if that was even possible. Little Lydia was styling a green sheath dress.

“So is it a small class?” Lydia asked, while I changed in the back seat of the six person cart.

“No, actually it’s really large. Mostly girls too, which I couldn’t figure out until the professor walked in,” I answered.

“Ohh? Is he a hottie?” Tanya asked.

I laughed. “How would I know. He’s young, tall, blond and looks in decent shape. The girls all sigh when he walks in, so I would guess you’re right,”

“And how did they react to you?” Tanya asked, smoothly. Our bond told me she was nervous about my answer, just a little, but still it was there.

“They stared. A couple stalked me, but no big deal.”

“Stalked you?” they said in unison. Lydia, who was driving, pulled the vehicle to a stop, spinning to look at me.

I laughed again, “Yeah, you know, they followed me when I left and approached me when I ate my dinner. No big whup.”

Lydia read my face while Tanya read my feelings and then they shared a glance,’ hurumphed’ in unison and on we went. After about twenty minutes in the cart, we parked it and climbed to the surface, exiting Citadel into the basement of an apartment building on the lower East side. When we hit street level, a big silver Mercedes sedan pulled up in front of us and we climbed in back. Arkady was in the front passenger seat, one of his young protégés driving. He welcomed the ladies and gave me a nod, like he hadn’t tried to kill me less than a day ago. I struggled with that, because those thoughts always lead back to Tanya ordering him to attack. Of course, I no sooner thought that then a pair of soft white hands cupped either side of my face and turned my head with the strength of the Jaws of Life. Sapphire eyes searched my own as my bond fed me reassurance that she had never felt I was in danger. A quick kiss and I was released, but I didn’t look away, because now I sensed that she needed reassurance. I grinned and kissed her back, mentally marking the whole incident up as one of those odd vampire things. She nodded without me saying anything and said “Yes, that’s what it was,” before turning to see where we were.

We were entering Brooklyn, and I suddenly realized our destination, as the girls had never said.

“Plasma?”

“Right the first time, student boy!” Lydia smirked at me.

I stuck my tongue out at her. She sighed and looked at her sister in everything but blood.

“I swear it’s gonna be a hundred years before he grows up!”

I reached around Tanya’s back and poked the little spiky-haired vampire in the side, pulling my hand back fast. She whirled and held one finger in my face, leaning around Tanya to glare at me.

“Watch it Frat boy! I’ll tell the Dean!”

Tanya turned and grinned at me. “Better listen; she’s our liaison with the University.”

“Oh, I’m sooo sorry. I wouldn’t want anything bad to go on my permanent record!”

Lydia held one finger up again, then dismissed me as unworthy of a response. I decided that round of banter was a draw. Better than my normal score.

***

We pulled up in front of Plasma fifteen minutes later and Arkady exited the car first, checking the surrounding night with eyes more sensitive than a sniper’s thermal scope.

Despite the fact that it was a Tuesday night, there was still a line in front of the club. Serious clubbers and dedicated Goth types are not put off by little things like jobs and early morning schedules. Plasma's reputation as the premier vampire wannabe club on the East Coast makes week nights the best bet to get in, so there is always a line. The club’s allure is fed by rumors that the owners and staff are, in fact, real vampires.

Arkady held the car door and we walked up to the front, where the bouncers hustled everyone out of the way. Regulars in line called out to Tanya and Lydia, a few even calling my name. The dangerous duo smiled and waved graciously back, which only created more excitement. Tanya glanced back at me, then paused till I was alongside her, slipping one slender white hand into my own. The vampire bouncers, all part of the security team, smoothly blocked obsessed clubbers, clearing a path straight to the private VIP section of the club. There are certainly less obvious ways to enter Plasma, but arriving unexpectedly on a weeknight would fuel rumors and buzz about the club for weeks to come. It also rewarded regulars with a glimpse of the most beautiful 'vampire' of them all.

Heavy music pounded my chest and the red lighting gave everything an eerie glow. It was, to my eyes, lit up like a football stadium, but must have been dark and murky to the humans. Listen to me....humans. A scant year earlier and my eyes would have been trying to adjust to the gloom like theirs.

The band caught sight of Tanya and immediately segued into one of her favorite dance songs. Black hair streaming behind her, the goddess in blue grabbed Lydia's hand and pulled her onto the dance floor. She knows better than to drag me out there. I don't dance, don't want to try and would much rather watch her anyway. I keep an eye on the crowd too, my protective side rising up to watch over my vampires while they enjoy themselves. Like they need my protection! Horny guys trying to hit on Tanya and Lydia don't usually fair too well. If, and that's a big if, they can get by the big vampire bouncers who automatically go on point when their 'Young Queen' hits the floor, those testosterone crazed idiots who attempt body to body contact usually get sudden sharp pains in various parts of their anatomy. Beings who can move too fast to be seen can inflict any manner of jab, poke or punch without anyone else the wiser. Most regulars know better, but occasionally some newbie has to give it a try. Oddly enough, girls will also try to get near the dancing vampires, and while they are allowed closer, a space still remains around the sisters.

Lia, one of the club’s supervisors, appeared silently by my side as I watched the girls. Tall with blended Asian and African features, she was dressed in black leather pants and a leopard print top that clung to her like a second skin. Gold jewelry inset with amethyst that glowed like fire in the club’s lighting just added to the exotic package. She handed me a Corona, the slice of lime tucked into the neck of the bottle.

“Thanks, Lia,” I said, taking a long draw.

“How’s the boss tonight?” she asked, something in her tone making me glance her way.

“She’s great. Ready to have fun. Why, she been edgy or something?” I asked.

I got a slow smile in return. “Darlin’ , she’s always edgy when her Chosen is away.”

“Yeah, well me too,” I responded.

“I meant, how’s that uncle of hers been. Okay?”

I shrugged. “I only met him last night…almost killed him, but other than that he seemed…alright,” I said, considering my words carefully.

She shot me a look, taking my comment about killing him seriously. Lia was long time New York Coven, which meant she knew I wasn’t a walking blood bag, but someone not to fuck with.

“Good. Word is he’s a bit of trouble, always testing and pushing. Nothing overt, just probing, but then suddenly he makes a move and someone dies. Apparently, he’s been kept in Russia for the last twenty years ‘cause he upset Senka,” she said. “Just so you know.”

She moved off to check on the bar and I realized she had been on me as soon as Tanya and Lydia hit the floor. The vampire world is in awe of my full blood vampire, but the New York Coven takes it to a new level. They are possessive and protective as hell of their ‘Young Queen’. When I first met Tanya, she Chose me almost instantly. The Coven hadn’t been so quick to warm up to me, particularly as Galina had tried to drive me away. When it became apparent that Tanya and I were bonded, and that I wasn’t a pushover, things changed. In fact, they swung completely the other way, with me now having a status second only to Tanya’s. I had also become an avenue of communication for Coven members to reach Tanya, much in the same role that Lydia sometimes played. Having the Queen's ear so to speak. And vampires, while aloof with strangers, are usually bound close to friends and 'family'. That Illarion was, in fact, a blood relative made the topic that much more dangerous for a Darkkin to bring up to Tanya.

My own feelings fell in line with Lia's comments. Illarion might have honest affection for his niece, but he still struck me as volatile and manipulative.

It hit me that the lower echelon Darkkin saw me in a favorable light, not something I've ever been used to. My local reputation had begun with saving Tanya from a Hellbourne that none of the security vamps had seen. It continued with the death of Elder Fedor at the paws of Okwari and, most recently, the attack by Loki Spawn that had pitted almost three hundred weres against a combined twenty-seven or so vampires and NY Pack members. Okwari and I had somehow managed to wipe out most of the Loki's. My own memories of that night are hazy with the biggest missing piece being the part where I somehow vaporized the remaining Spawn in one shot.

Thinking about all of this made me miss Okwari. His disappearances had begun right after that night and I was unnerved by how big a hole he had left in my life. I guess the size of the hole matched the size of the bear.

On the dance floor, Tanya spun to face me, her head tilted to one side as she processed my emotions. I smiled at her and raised one eyebrow suggestively as I ogled her lithe form, which earned me a lascivious grin in return. Satisfied that I was okay, she went back to dancing, although her liquid motions were difficult to describe as merely dancing.

“Ah Chris?” Lia asked as she ghosted back next to me.

“Yeah Lia?”

“There's a guy at the door that's asking to speak with you. Says you know him and will want to see him,” she said, a little uncertain.

“Does he have a name?” I asked, sipping my beer.

“Peter Gillian,” she answered.

“Tall guy?” I asked. She nodded. Peter headed the New York Paranormal Research Team, a non-profit ghost hunting outfit that tried to help people solve supernatural problems. Peter had, for a time, been my clearing house for demonic hauntings and possessions. It had ended when he told the City authorities about my abilities, bringing me to the attention of the NYPD's Special Situation Squad, which had subsequently hired me. While that had worked in my favor, I hadn't forgiven him for breaching my trust. Peter knew that and felt horrible for succumbing to the pressure the SSS group had put him under. I sipped more beer and thought a bit more, while Lia waited. He wouldn't show up unless it was really, really bad.

“Yeah, I'll talk to him,” I said. I started to follow, but she held up one hand.

“How about I bring him to you?” she said with a mischievous grin. Apparently, Tanya's vamps had adopted a protective concern for me as well, despite my own rather formidable abilities. I nodded and smiled back at her.

She turned and flicked a hand signal at a bouncer up on the second level who was watching us like a hawk. He nodded and in turn signaled someone out of sight, most likely at the door.

Plasma has three floors, with the middle one being the street level. The main bar and dance floor are at the bottom, so I had lots of time to watch a visibly nervous Peter walk down the stairs as he followed a heavily tattooed, mohawk wearing Darkkin. The bouncer handed him off to me with a glance and a nod. I nodded back and turned my attention to Peter. At about six-four, he’s a big guy in the football player way, but he looked and smelled scared as hell. He knew! Not surprising in hindsight, that the head of a paranormal group might actually believe that the Plasma vamps were real, but it still surprised me. Then it struck me that he had willingly entered the den of what he thought to be vampires to meet with a person who might (as far as he knew) be a vampire and who wasn’t happy with him. Holy shit, talk about brave.

I shelved the ideas of payback I’d been toying with and instead stuck out my hand to shake.

“Hey Peter, what’s up?”

“Ah, hi Chris. Thanks for seeing me,” he said, glancing at the surrounding vamps. I gave Lia a nod to indicate all was good and at her hand signal the Darkkin all faded back into the shadows.

His tension eased just a bit. “You want a beer or something?” I asked.

He started to shake his head no, then rethought the idea and nodded. “A beer would actually be great, although I don’t have much time,” he said.

I caught the eye of the bartender and waved my almost empty Corona bottle and then two fingers. Less than ten seconds later a waitress brought two frosty, lime wedged beers to where we were just sitting down.

The speed startled Peter again, but I just smiled and waved him to speak.

“Ah thanks,” he said to the waitress, who gave him a blank expression, but gave me a quick wink.

“I know I’m not on your good list Chris, and believe me, I understand why, but I don’t have any other options left.”

“Whata ya got?”

“A girl in the Bronx, about fourteen years old I think, under the worst possession I’ve ever seen. We’ve tried every avenue out there, but this one is too strong, got too solid a grip on her,” he said, his eyes haunted as he thought about the girl. I could hear his heart speed up, faster than it had since he had entered the club. It must be a real scene if the thought of it scared him more than vampires did.

“Alright, I’ll do it,” I said, coming to an instant decision.

He face reflected disbelief. “Really? I wasn’t sure…” he trailed off.

“Nope, sounds bad, let’s do it. Pound your beer and let’s get going,”

“Go where?” asked a silky voice from my right side, where the air suddenly smelled of lilac and jasmine.

“Yeah, where?” came from the other side, which smelled of musk and rose.

“Tanya, Lydia, this is Peter Gillian, from NYPRT,” I introduced him. “Peter, this is Tatiana Demidova, and her sister, Lydia Chapman.”

He was speechless, but his face spoke volumes. Awe mixed with fright, attraction with curiosity, his heart speeding to a new level that was starting to concern me.

His vocals temporarily shot, he just nodded, well, it was more of a head jerk than a nod.

“Peter has a really serious possession case in the Bronx. I’m gonna take care of it for him…wanna come along?”

Both girls instantly turned their predatory gazes from Peter to me, disbelief on their luminous faces.

“Really?” “You’re joking?”

Neither had ever been with me when I had exorcised a house demon, let alone a possession. I didn’t like company, but I was feeling good, having released my anger at Peter in the face of his personal courage.

“Yeah, time is important, so I want to head right over. You guys can watch if you want, long as you have your necklaces on,” I said with a shrug. Suddenly I was wearing two girl shaped ornaments, both vamps having jumped on me in glee.

“You might wanna change though. Possession scenes are messy.”

Two pairs of lips simultaneously kissed my cheeks and they were gone in a blur. Peter looked stricken. I turned to look for Lia, but she was already next to me.

“Hi, listen, would you ask Arkady to have the limo brought up?” I asked, before turning to a bewildered Peter. “Did you drive or take a cab here?”

“Ah, a cab,” he answered.

“Yeah, we’ll definitely need the limo,” I said. “Thanks,”

“On it, Chosen,” she said, moving away to handle the request.

Peter looked at me, confused. “Chosen?”

“Tanya calls me her Chosen one,” I said with a shrug, watching his expression.

The raised eyebrows and widened eyes told me he knew very well what that meant. Peter was much better informed about vampires than I would have guessed.

“Ah I don’t mean to rush, but…well…the sooner we get there the better?” he said, obviously concerned with the time it would take the girls to change. He took a gulp of beer, nervously.

“Why?” Tanya asked, smoothing her burgundy performance tee where it tucked into black leather pants.

Lydia was just behind her, now dressed in black tights and a sleeveless red shirt.

Peter’s throat spasmed as he choked on his beer at their sudden appearance in new attire. I patted his back to help stop his sputtering.

“The longer a demon is in possession, the harder it is to get out,” I explained.

“But I thought you always got them out?” Lydia questioned.

“I do, or at least, I have so far, but the problem is that the demon gets more and more entangled in the host’s ..soul. When I finally rip them out, it can damage the host, permanently.”

Chapter 13

We left Plasma by the back entrance, Arkady eyeing a shaky Peter Gillian as we loaded into the big limo. I gave Arkady the address as I slid by him, and we were off.

The girls were full of questions and Arkady left the glass divider down to listen in as I talked. Peter was in possible shock and sat quietly on the other side of the limo from us. The girls, scenting his fear, chose to curl up on either side of me while we rode.

“It seems like it’s always girls getting possessed?” Lydia asked.

“I never kept track of actual numbers, but all the possessions I’ve handled except for two were teenage girls,” I agreed. “I don’t know why that is, but I think the emotional flux girls go through in puberty is somehow more what demons need to get possession. Boys go through a lot too, but they seem more susceptible to suggestion by demons who take up residence in a home or place.”

“What do you mean?” Tanya asked.

“Boys will come under the influence of a demonic entity and act out violently, but are not usually fully possessed like girls. The kid that shoots up the school or murders a little kid or parent, has usually been influenced by a demon. But it’s still them doing it, not the demon. Girls, on the other hand, tend to give over their body. What do you think Peter?” I asked. Time to draw him out of his bubble.

He blinked, then without looking at either girl, spoke.

“We, my group that is, think it may have something to do with the menstrual cycle. The huge surge of hormone driven emotions may have something to do with it.”

“Tell me about the girl?” I asked, not giving him a chance to slide back into silence.

He cleared his throat and began to provide the case history, the same way he had trained his investigators, ignoring the vampires around him.

“Her name is Brandeye Arroyo, she’s fourteen. Lives with her mother, Yana and grandmother, Eva. Father left when she was a baby. Grandmother and mother came from Puerto Rico when Yana was a teen. Yana got pregnant and they’ve done the best they could ever since. They don’t have much.” He was looking me in the eye as he finished, his mind back and focused on the family’s problems. I gave him a nod to continue.

“They live in South Bronx, a particularly bad section. Yana lost her job as a cook in a local restaurant about a month ago, when the place failed. About a week later, Brandeye started to exhibit a violent temper, swearing and screaming at everyone. Then she would come out of it and have no memory. That was the start. Now….well, now, we hardly ever see Brandeye.”

“So what, the demon is in control now? All the time?” Lydia asked him.

Locked into lecture mode, he seemed to forget what Lydia was. “Yeah, it’s present most of the time now,” he said.

We were in South Bronx by this time, the big limo moving slowly through the streets, attracting attention from whoever was awake at this hour. I was glad it wasn’t daytime, the car would have drawn too much of the wrong crowd.

The car stopped in front of a particularly rundown apartment building as Arkady spoke from up front.

“We are here,” he announced in his thick Russian accent.

The feeling of being watched was palpable as we exited the car and moved into the building, but no one approached us.

“Ladies, you have your necklaces on?” I asked.

They both nodded affirmative, while Peter shot me a look. “Necklaces?” he asked.

“A variation on the fetish theme,” I answered. He was well aware that I used Zuni soapstone fetishes, charged with my strange aura, as a leave behind protection for those that had been demon haunted.

He led the way to a first-floor apartment in the back, but our ears could have done the same job just as easily. Screams, growls and curses were emanating in a steady stream from the door of apartment 1F as we approached. Peter didn’t bother to knock, but simply opened the unlocked door and headed in. I was next, with the girls gliding silently behind. They were both intensely curious.

The tiny entryway led to a small living room with a kitchen off to one side. Two bedroom doorways took up most of one wall, and the screams of rage were coming from the farthest one, along with the sharp smell of vomit, piss and fear. A tiny Hispanic woman poked her head out of the bedroom, her worn and worried features reflecting some relief at the sight of Peter. When her eyes got to the vampire ladies and myself, they went round with shock.

“Eva, these are friends. This is Chris, the one I told you about. He will help your granddaughter,” he promised.

We entered the room, which was occupied by a younger but almost as worn version of Eva, as well as a priest wearing fear and worry like a uniform , and, last, the object of my presence.

Brandeye Arroyo was tied into bed, her feet and hands each roped to a corner post, wearing a stained tee shirt and shorts. Good thing, cause the girl was going postal; her body thrashing and spasming, her head flipping from side to side as she screamed and growled. Eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth emitted a low pitched voice that belonged to nothing from this world.

“KILL YOU ALL! RIP OFF YOUR HEADS AND SHIT DOWN YOUR ROTTED THROATS. I PISS ON YOUR GOD, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK , FUCK,” and more of the same in a steady stream.

She suddenly shifted, sensing Peter. “BACK FOR MORE, USELESS CRAP BAG?” taking a breath to continue, but I spoke first.

“Shut up Hellspawn,” I said in an even voice, not bothering to raise my volume.

The thing on the bed that used to be a fourteen year old girl froze into unnatural stillness at the sound of my voice.

“WHO SPOKE?”

It couldn’t see me, my aura blinding it. House bound demons could see me once I entered their territory, but Hellbourne and demons in possession couldn’t, at least until I made physical contact. Which is why I leaned forward and touched my right hand to the filth encrusted, sweat covered leg tied to the bed.

It jerked her head up and looked straight at me. “YOU!” it said.

“Me,” I agreed, jumping forward and placing my left hand on the girl’s dirty, matted head. The demon arched her body in an attempt to throw me off, but it was too late. I was already rolling my aura up through her body from my right hand to my left, squeezing out the monster like toothpaste from a tube. Greasy, foul black ectoplasm streamed from her mouth, nose, eyes and ears, pooling around my left hand in a squirming, oily mess. When the flow stopped, and my Sight showed the girl clear, I pulled my left hand from her and held the writhing blob up toward the ceiling while calling Kirby in my mind. The giant vaporous form of the God Hawk slammed into our dimension like a flying freight train. Talons the size of kitchen knives snatched the demon from my hand as Kirby popped back out of reality.

Forming a tiny mono-edge on the index finger of each hand, I sliced the ropes holding Brandeye’s feet and hands quickly, before anyone else in the room had time to come to their senses. Six sets of eyes were wide with awe when I looked up from the girl, who, blessedly, was still dazed. The atmosphere was already two hundred percent better, the sense of evil and rot fading rapidly.

Yana rushed around the other side of the bed and gathered her filthy, but demon-clean daughter into her arms, the both of them starting to cry. Grandma Eva’s eyes were glimmering with tears as well, but she was completely focused as she grabbed my hands in hers and started to gush words in Spanish. I think she was thanking me, but I couldn’t follow any of it. The priest, whose name I didn’t know, snapped into life, moving forward to relieve me of the grateful lady. Peter was speechless, staring at me open-mouthed. Tanya and Lydia were in better control of their senses, but still seemed a bit dazed. Lydia disappeared into the bathroom, back in a flash with several towels which she used to help Yana clean the worst of the filth off the girl. She was speaking fluent Spanish and her words must have made sense, because suddenly both Eva and Yana began to hustle Brandeye into the bathroom. The door closed and the shower turned on, while Lydia ransacked the bedroom for clothes. Tanya had stopped looking at me and was now studying the apartment, which was rather appalling. The clutter and filth were obviously recent, the result of both older women having their hands full with a possessed teen. The underlying apartment showed signs of having been orderly at some not too distant point in the past. There wasn’t much in the way of possessions but what there was had been carefully tended, at least until the demon’s arrival.

My bond told me Tanya was determined about something, so I wasn’t surprised when her cell phone appeared in her hand and she started making calls. I occupied myself with a silver necklace I found on the teenager’s dresser, just a cheap piece with a small silver cross. It had been flung there with its chain broken. I managed to fix the links with the mini-Leatherman tool that’s attached to my key ring. Then I borrowed one of Lydia’s two protective necklaces and got to work. This particular necklace had twelve miniature soapstone fetishes fastened around it, each shaped like a guardian animal. It had been a free gift from my fetish supplier out West, sort of a reward for the amount of business I provided. I snipped an eagle, bear, coyote and tortoise free from the rest and slid them onto Brandeye’s silver chain.

The three Arroyo women were just coming out of the bathroom, Brandeye clean and wearing mostly clean sweats that Lydia had scavenged, so I moved slowly to the shell shocked girl and fastened the necklace around her neck. She held the little cross in her hand and tears welled up in her eyes.

“I cannot wear this anymore, I don’t have the right!” she sobbed looking first at me than the priest.

“Nonsense, you need it now more than ever. Consider it a reminder of God’s love and his providence in sending these people to help you,” the priest said firmly.

“You do need to keep it,” I said. “The demon that stalked you is gone, and it can’t come back from Hell, but this will protect you from any others that are out there. When you wear it, you are blocked from demon sight.”

It would have gotten real emotional then, except that was when Tanya reached the night manager of a local hotel.

“Mr. Simms is it? This is Tatiana Demidova…. I own the hotel you work for. I want you to enter my name in your reservation system,” she instructed, her words getting everyone’s immediate attention.

“It should prompt you for a security word…..did it? Okay, tonight’s word is Christian,” she said, looking into my eyes as she said it. Mother, daughter and grandmother all drew in sharp breaths of air, and I realized they thought she meant Christian in the religious sense, rather than my name. Tanya was an IT security nightmare, her passwords all some variation of Christian Anthony Gordon.

I started to correct the Arroyos’ misperception, but slammed my jaws shut at the last minute. One of the few times in my life when I’ve been able to keep my foot out of my mouth. If they wanted to believe it had something to do with Christianity, than so much the better. They could use all the faith they could get right now.

“You should have a new screen in front of you? Yeah? Does that satisfy you of my authority?” she asked evenly, her tone indicating she already knew the answer.

“Okay listen carefully. My limo will be dropping three women at your entrance in fifteen minutes time. The Arroyo family. You will put them in one of the suites and bill my account. You will also give a job application to Yana Arroyo, who will be starting work in the restaurant in two days time. Leave notes for the day manager. Confirmation from corporate will be there in an…” she looked at Lydia, who was typing text messages on her phone. She held up a two fingers without looking up. “Within two hours. Got it?” Tanya finished. “Good,”

She clicked off the phone and turned to the three women. “You’re going to spend the night in one of my hotels. Tomorrow, one of the hotel vans will bring you home. A professional cleaning crew will be here to tidy this place up. Yana, you will fill out the application and give them your hour requirements. You start work the day after tomorrow. Questions?” she asked, having finished her machine gun delivery of information.

The mother and grandmother were stunned, Brandeye just looked whipped. Yana was working her mouth without words coming out and before she could find her voice, Tanya spoke. “Good. Now grab some clean clothes and come with me. I’ll have my driver take you over to the hotel,” she said, herding the women toward the door.

I was left looking at Peter and the priest, while Lydia continued to tap out text messages at a dizzying rate. Peter, whose face had only ranged from awe to shock to awe again in the last fifteen minutes finally got himself together to introduce the priest.

“Chris, this is Father Amos,” he said, pointing to the exhausted looking priest. Amos was a lean six feet, with deep mahogany skin and very dark brown eyes. “Father Amos is the Church’s leading exorcist in the city,” he explained.

“Father,” I said, moving forward to shake his hand. He was slightly wary as he returned the shake. “You have a God given power!” he said with feeling.

“So I’ve been told,” I acknowledged. “Father Amos, this is my fiancée’s sister, Lydia.”

Lydia looked up from her phone and nodded. “Father,” before going back to her texting.

“And your fiancée is Tatiana?” he clarified, obviously curious.

“Demidova. Tatiana Demidova,” I confirmed, interested to hear his response. The Demidova name was well known around the city in relation to the real estate they controlled. But photos were almost nonexistent as they shunned all public appearances. That only drove the rest of the Big Apple crazy.

“I see,” he said, trying to wrap his thoughts around the idea while he eyed Lydia. “Are you in business as well, Chris?”

I laughed. “Not so much. If anything I do a lot of your kind of work, your specialty work that is,” I answered.

He nodded slowly. “That would make sense, Peter just never said anything about your…connections.”

I glanced at Peter who looked a mixture of curious and chagrined.

“Peter and I haven’t had a lot of communication for the last year or so. He didn’t know about it either,” I said. Lydia gave me a hand wave toward the door and I spoke again. “Listen, I think we’re headed out now. We’ll drop the Arroyos at the hotel. You guys have rides?”

Peter nodded, “I rode with Father Amos.”

I said goodbye. Lydia and I exited the apartment and headed to the limo.

Chapter 14

I was expecting questions, but oddly, both Lydia and Tanya were quiet after dropping off the Arroyos. I watched Tanya, wondering about her generosity toward the three downtrodden women. Despite being a vampire and the only natural born one at that, Tanya wasn't cold hearted. But she also wasn't particularly interested in most humans either. The Coven supported many charities throughout the city, but that just made good business sense. Tax deductions and the good public relations are strong corporate motivators for donations to non-profits. Tanya took an active interest in my god daughter, Toni, perhaps even a bit overboard, but other than that she wasn't usually inclined to intervene in regular people's lives.

She spun around to face me. “What?” she demanded, my bond telling me she felt defensive at my staring.

I held both hands up in peace. “Nothing, just wondering about the hotel and job and all,” I said, arching one eyebrow.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “You object that I helped them?” she asked, voice deceptively quiet.

Now I could feel that she was mad, hurt and a bit resentful. The bond is a great thing for getting emotions right, at least what I receive, but it doesn't tell me why she feels the way she does.

“Of course not! I think it's great! I just didn't see it coming, that's all,” I deflected.

She accepted my answer, but I could tell she didn't want to let go of her feelings quite yet. Which seemed odd. The information that flows to me from her is not as detailed as what the bond sends to her. And I had gotten more emotions within the last twenty-four hours than ever before, and conflicting ones at that . Granted her personality had grown and expanded as much in the last year as my physical and paranormal abilities had. But after three weeks away, I was having trouble keeping up.

“Listen, what you did will help them long term. That's more than I could do,” I said, settling back into the soft car seat. Her anger flared again and I looked up to meet her sparking blue eyes.

“What?” I demanded, defensive myself.

“More than you could do?” she intoned, with an edge. “You exorcised the freaking demon that was destroying all their lives!”

I realized she thought I was patronizing her. Intentionally downplaying my role. I shook my head.

“No, no! That's not what I meant,” I said, quickly. “Yes I got rid of the demon, that's what I do! But I have no power to help them long term. Hell, the reason the demon was there in the first place was because of their economic situation.”

Lydia had stayed quiet during our unfortunate conversation; though her hard stare had told me whose side she was on. Now she spoke. “What do you mean? What does their income have to do with demons?”

It seemed overly obvious to me, but then I considered my audience. Wealth beyond most people's comprehension can cloud even vampire perceptions.

I took a deep breath, centering myself and putting aside my shock at the abrupt changes I was sensing in Tanya.

“Demons are drawn to pain, suffering, and despair, mostly despair. Being poor to begin with, then having your mother lose her job would have been really tough on a teenager like Brandeye. To a demon, it would have been like free withdrawals at a blood bank would be to a Darkkin,” I explained. “Giving Yana a job, a clean hotel room for the night and a clean home to come back to was huge! I don't have those resources.”

Hell, I didn't even have a job anymore. I lived off my parents' trust fund, which was okay, especially as I had given up my apartment in Brooklyn. Tanya and Senka had given me a couple of shares in the Coven, but I didn't touch that. I didn't actually work for the government; they just cleared my way and picked up after me, although most of my expenses were picked up by either the Coven or General Creek's department. So, overall, my financial situation was fine, but nothing like the economic power that Tanya and Lydia wielded.

They both settled back, mollified, but now I was locked in a thought train, heading down the tracks of self assessment. No job, no career, I just killed weres full time. Not much of a contribution to society.

The people I had known in high school and college were all out in the world, building careers and families, while I just banished demons, killed evil motorcycle weres and struggled with an inner demon that made the rest seem like puppies. Sure, I had a girl now, which I had never anticipated, but while she affected the lives of millions of people with her business decisions, I was just a killer.

“Stop that!” Tanya said. “Don't even go there!”

I turned to meet her serious gaze. Couldn't even feel sorry for myself without getting yelled at.

Her eyes widened for a moment, then softened. “You idiot! You wield God's power, for heaven's sake. How much more of a positive impact on the world do you need to feel good about yourself?” Her tone was affectionate if exasperated.

“What? He better not be feeling sorry for himself” Lydia warned, her green eyes flashing.

“You're gonna tell me what I can feel now?” I demanded from the spiky haired little vamp.

“Apparently I have to, 'cause you don't appear smart enough on your own!” she said.

My anger sank under a weight of sudden confusion.

“Where did all this come from? Why are you two suddenly mad at me? You wanted to see me exorcise a demon, you saw, and now you’re both mad at me, what the fuck?” I was seriously confused, a fact that passed to Tanya through our link.

“You don't know? You honestly don't know?” she asked, although she must know that I didn't.

I shook my head.

Her gaze turned thoughtful. “What's it like? When you rip a demon out,” she asked.

That came from left field.

“I don't know, maybe like wrestling or jiu-jitsu. Sudden contact, exerting leverage and force, like that!” I finished lamely.

“What do you feel?”

“Like I just won a grapple, an intense grapple.”

“That's it?”

“Well no. I feel scared, that I'm gonna fail this time, and when I don't, I feel a bit elated or maybe satisfied, that I got it right,” I said.

Both were looking at me in disbelief.

“You don't feel the tone?” Lydia asked.

“The what?” I asked.

“The tone! There was a sound, or maybe just the feeling of a sound, a pitch that passed clear through us when you pulled out the demon. And when that shadow bird or whatever it was came through there was a …..sensation.” she said. Tanya was nodding.

“Oh, yeah, Gina said something like that once. And so did Benson and the others. I don't know anything about that. I've never heard it or felt it or whatever,” I said, which was true. “They said it was a weird, kinda religious feeling, or something.”

Both vampires nodded. “Well, I don’t get any of that. Too busy I guess,” I shrugged. “Why is that important?”

“Because you twit, everybody around you feels a pretty awesome God-is –with-us type moment and you were the one who did it. Makes us regular types feel insignificant. Then you complain about how little you contribute? Well, that just pisses people off!” Lydia ranted.

“Oh,” I said. That would make sense, although I still didn’t understand the ‘God moment’ they were talking about. “Listen, I’m just a tool. I may use the aura or whatever but I’m still just his minion. Not like I’m Ghandi or Mother Theresa or something.”

“No shit, Mr. Wizard!” Lydia said with a snort.”But you got the tool part right!”

That was good, that little shot. It pretty much told me we were back on an even keel. So of course I had to keep poking, couldn’t help myself.

“I’m still curious. And at the risk of getting in more hot water, why did you offer Yana a job? The clean up and hotel stay would have been a big help. But the job part was huge.”

Tanya didn’t answer for a second, which caused me some worry, although the link was reporting that she was just thinking the answer through, not getting angry.

“They were tough. Ready to do whatever was necessary to help Brandeye. They were grateful and showed it. Despite the demon, the apartment showed that they took care of themselves. They are fighters!” she concluded, partly to herself. I nodded with each point.

“Got it,” I said, settling back. Tanya did admire a good fighter.

“We gotta get you home, it’s late and you have an early day,” Lydia spoke suddenly.

“What?”

“Tomorrow is Wednesday. You’re taking Toni to Kindergarten for Visitors day, remember?” the little vamp said, gleefully watching my reaction.

“Oh crap! That’s tomorrow?” I had completely forgotten my promise to Gina and Toni. Tanya laughed at my panicked expression.

“Come on hero, if you can bitch slap a demon, how hard can Kindergarten be?”

Chapter 15

If you’re used to being around children then you already know, but if you’re like me and don’t have a lot experience with kids then let me tell you this – five year olds can talk. Boy can they talk.

Toni kept up a running dialogue the entire five block walk to her school. She covered the most important things first – her wardrobe. She was wearing a flower print dress, with black shoes and white socks. But she almost went with the sky blue dress with the black belt and the same shoes, or the white dress with a fuzzy grey sweater over it if it had been cooler. Then we discussed my wardrobe – khakis, with a polo shirt and brown shoes. That was a short conversation. She told me about Mrs. Brint, her teacher, who was apparently just married. She explained class duties, such as the weather board, cleaning up the reading nook, the morning announcements and feeding the class fish. Her favorite was the fish feeding gig, apparently there was a lot of action when the dried flakes of food hit the surface of the water. She loved the reading nook, where you got to look at books and someone was selected every day to pick out the class stories that Mrs. Brint would read aloud.

She explained attendance which was recorded by every student putting a green card in the little cardboard pocket on the attendance wall as they arrived. Her dark chocolate brown eyes were very serious as she revealed the secrets to avoiding having your green card get replaced with a yellow or, heaven forbid, a red card. She had never been down that road, herself, but Teagan Taylor was a recurring offender. Apparently, he had difficulty with keeping quiet and minding to his own business.

I’m sure there was a lot more on her list of topics but five blocks really isn’t that far. It was a tad surreal, walking with the tiny, energetic creature; her little hand holding mine. I listened to her running monologue with one ear, while keeping Grim’s protective instincts in check. Every pedestrian, every bicycle that went by was catalogued, examined for threat potential and then ignored. Every car that drove by or failed to stop as we started to cross risked sudden annihilation. It was a bit tiring.

So I was glad when the Monroe elementary school appeared at last. It was an old school that had undergone a rebirth. The faltering national and state economies had been brutal on schools and the Monroe had almost failed. Maybe it had, I’m not truly clear on that. I do know it had been purchased by a private company, renovated and reopened as a private school that promised the latest education techniques and the best technology available. Cutting edge, but not elitist, it offered K through third grade at a fairly reasonable price. I wasn’t sure how that would work out, but the principal, who was new this year, seemed very enthusiastic about its prospects.

The new principal was standing on the front steps of the old sandstone building, greeting all the children and their visiting family members. Toni plunked to a stop in front of him, waiting till he was done talking to another child’s mother. Big and burly, with a thick black beard, he was an imposing figure, or would have been if his formidable appearance wasn’t softened by his huge smile and booming laugh. He finally turned to greet us. “Ah, Toni, you’re here! And who is this man that you’ve brought with you?”

“Come on Dad, you know Mr. Chris!” she said in a tone that was remarkably similar to her mother’s. Roy Velasquiz smiled even wider and laughed, reaching out to shake my hand. Roy had been handpicked by the new owners of the Monroe school, brought to their attention, no doubt, by his actions as Assistant Principal at I.S. 341 the past spring.

“Chris, thank you for coming as Toni’s guest. Believe it or not, it hasn’t been easy on her, having me as the principal. Huh, kiddo?” he asked.

“I’m not allowed to call him Dad, or Papa or run up and hug him in front of the other kids, on account of it would make them sad,” she explained, knowing the words but still uncertain of the reason.

“Well, I can honestly say that I’ve never been a guest at Kindergarten before, so it’ll be ….interesting, I’m sure,” I said, uncertain of the day in front of me.

“Come on Chris, I hardly think this counts as too harsh an adventure for someone of your background,” he said with a grin. Roy knew quite a bit about me, being married to my handler and all, not to mention he had witnessed my abilities first hand in I.S. 341.

Another parent and child combo moved up to claim his attention, and Toni pulled me further into her school. Kindergarten classes were all on the first floor of the old three story building, so our walk was short. We found her cubby where she could hang her raincoat or winter jacket as the seasons advanced, and then she showed me into her classroom. Her teacher, Mrs. Brint, was handing out visitor ID cards to parents, grandparents and favored relatives as each child brought them in. Toni pulled me up to the young woman, who paused slightly at the sight of my violet eyes. She recovered quickly, smiled as she welcomed me and gave me my pass. She wasn’t much older than me, maybe a year or two. Small, with short black hair that was cut to hang straight by her face, she had hazel eyes and wore a black knit dress.

Toni handled the green card attendance thing and we settled by her desk. Happily, adult sized folding chairs had been added to the class décor and I claimed one for my own. I had been fixating on a mental image of myself crammed into a child sized desk set the whole time I had showered and dressed.

The morning was consumed by the class’s regular routine. Children took turns at various tasks, worked with numbers and letters, added words to their word wall, and then it was story time.

“Toni, do you think your guest would read to the class? Mrs. Brint asked from out of left field.

“Oh yes!” Toni answered for me. She ran to the reading nook and came back with a Clifford the big red dog, a Dr. Seuss book (Green Eggs and Ham) and something about an old man and his old orange cat. I focused on the kids and tried to ignore the other adults, particularly, the other teachers that found some reason to poke their heads in and converse quietly with Mrs. Brint.

Lunch saved me from any further performances. Hot turkey, with mashed potatoes and gravy. Not bad, just not enough of it. I snuck two pemmican bars from the stash we had put in Toni’s school bag.

After lunch we began a mini herb garden project. Using waxed paper cups, potting soil, and seeds each adult and child team planted basil, oregano and thyme, labeled the cups and packed them for transport in paper lunch bags. The mini gardens were a variation on a class project, so the kids carefully showed the adults that they knew all the steps. After that, Mrs. Brint had each child stand and tell the class, why they were glad that their particular adult was visiting.

When it was Toni’s turn, she popped up and faced the class, very serious. “I am glad that Mr. Chris is here today because he is my godfather, he is funny and he keeps me safe,” she said, her fingers touching the little bear necklace Tanya and I had given her. The class applauded and she sat back down, but I was still frozen at her words. ‘He keeps me safe’ echoed through my head, the solemn expression etched in my mind’s eye. Did I really keep her safe? Or was she in much, much greater danger for even knowing me? I had to think it was the latter and my heart was in my throat as I thought of any harm coming to her.

“Thanks again for coming, Mr. Gordon,” the teacher said, breaking my introspection.

“Oh, ah, thanks for having me. It was fun!” I said, trying to snap back to present. The class was done, adults and children gathering school things and bags of herb cups in preparation for dismissal.

We were about half-way home when she tugged my right hand and looked up at me.

“Do you want to keep the herb garden, Mr. Chris?” Toni asked. I could read between the lines.

“Actually, Toni, I thought maybe it could be our gift to your mom. She likes to cook and well, I don’t do much cooking,” I said. The huge smile that lit up her face told me I had made the correct choice.

A fit young woman in tight jogging clothes was approaching us, smiling at me; and I automatically moved us over a step to the right to make room for her to pass. As she came even with us, she stumbled, falling into my left side. I caught her with my left arm, then felt a sharp jolt in my side, while sensing movement around us and hearing the screech of car tires as a blue SUV slammed to a halt next to us.

****

Next thing I know I was staring into a pair of red rimmed, teary brown eyes and my left side hurt really bad.

I blinked, then blinked again, my vision swimming back into focus. Toni was staring at my face, her own expression a mixture of shock and crumpled sadness, just on the verge of a real meltdown.

“Toni? Are you alright?” I asked, my brain moving into action as I examined her for any injuries.

“I want Mommy!” she said, tears streaking down her cheeks. She looked okay, so I looked around at our surroundings. We were on a rooftop, one of the four-story brownstones that lined the street we had been walking on. How did we get here? I reached back into my memory and hit the rewind and play buttons. After reviewing the memory of the last few moments, I stood up, carrying Toni with me, ignored the bite of pain in my left side, and shuffled over to the edge of the roof. Peering over, I looked down into a catastrophic scene.

A vehicle, the blue SUV, was burning in two pieces, and five, no six bodies lay sprawled in bloody pools on the side walk and street. We were on the opposite side of the street from where we had been walking, four stories up. Neighbors and pedestrians were crowding around, and sirens spoke of first responders heading to the grisly scene.

I backed up and replayed the memories in my head.

The jogger stumbles, I catch her, but something is off. Her arm blurs forward, fast, and I feel a sharp jab in my left ribs. Three men in three different parts of the street begin to draw weapons, just as a dark blue SUV (Toyota Four-Runner) slams to a halt, the rear passenger doors opening.

There’s no cell door opening or other mental transition, Grim is just suddenly in control. My left arm blurs, index finger jabbing the assassin in lycra in her temple, the bone crunching like eggshell. I spin, scooping Toni into my wounded left side, my right hand throwing a wave of power that blows two of the gunmen off their feet and slams them into an oncoming garbage truck with enough force to buckle the front grill. Turning my right side to the SUV I accelerate sideways, the mono-edge lining my body slicing through the rugged vehicle while Toni’s delicate form is wrapped in an aura bubble denser than tungsten. The four-wheel drive vehicle rips in half, the men attempting to exit not fast enough to avoid being chopped in two. One wheel, tire and all, bounces free from the shattered Toyota, and I grab it, throwing it at the third gunman. We are still moving, at speed, even as he is lifted off his feet and crushed against a lamp post. My feet carry us across the street, then up the side of the building, each step Clinging and releasing, Clinging and releasing.

Okay, so we had been attacked. Or maybe it was just me they attacked. The girl had moved fast, faster than a human should have been able to. But she wasn’t were and certainly not vampire.

My brain automatically popped up a priority list. Get away, get Toni home, contact Tanya (who would be already moving).

“Okay Toni, it’s time to go home to Mommy. I need to you be brave, okay?” I asked.

She nodded at my words, but she was just this side of a bawling mess.

The rooftop door was a heavy steel-clad fireproof model; it crumpled easily at my shove, the screech of torn metal covered by the police sirens that had arrived on scene.

We moved quickly through the brownstone, hoping to avoid the residents. I grabbed a blue nylon jacket hanging near the front door and held it over my bleeding left side as we exited the open front door. The house’s owner was most likely one of the women standing in a group, arms crossed, studying the kill zone in front of them. None of them turned as we shuffled down the stairs and moved up the street. I glanced once at the bodies, noticing for the first time that one of the dead men was the Middle Eastern youth I had seen at Columbia.

It was a really long two blocks to Toni’s house, the pain in my side getting worse with every step, but suddenly we were there. The door popped open as we approached, a relieved Gina smiling as she saw us.

“There you are! I got a little worried by all the sirens, thinking it might have been…..” she trailed off as Toni rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist. Then Gina spotted my side, or most likely blood on my side.

“Inside, quick!” I said, moving painfully up the steps.

Silent, she scooped up Toni and retreated into the house. I pulled the door almost shut, but left it ajar. No use getting it wrecked, the Velasquizs had only moved into this house a couple of months ago.

“What happened?” Gina asked.

“We were attacked. Well, maybe just I was attacked,” I said.

“You’re wounded?” she asked, stunned.

I was a little stunned myself. I don’t get wounded very easily, and when I do, it heals in minutes. I didn’t know what this was but it wasn’t healing and I was frankly reluctant to look. I certainly wasn’t going to look in front of an already sobbing Toni, a point I made by flicking my glance at her and then back to her mother. Gina got the message and pulled Toni into her lap, rubbing her back and gently rocking her. She kept her eyes on me, though, while she automatically comforted her daughter.

“Who?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Human, although odd,” I answered, remembering the girl’s speed.

She glanced at the partially opened door. “I need to lock that!”

“No!” I said. She jumped at my abrupt tone of voice.

I shrugged. “It would only get broken in the next couple of minutes,” I said.

Her eyes widened as comprehension sunk in.

“Hey, did you see all the ruckus up the road?” Roy’s voice said, from the entry way.

“Honey, get in here and get away from the door!” Gina said, slightly panicked.

“I’ll just close it…” he started to say.

“No!” Gina and I chorused. Then my bond told me it was too late.

The door slammed open, Roy stumbling back. She stood in the open doorway, my own Angel of Death. Eyes like blue arc lights studied the room from a slender, lethal form that was frozen motionless. Those hard sapphire gems glittered coldly as they locked onto me.

I tend to be a bit of a wiseass, mostly, but this wasn’t a good time to indulge that aspect of my personality.

“Tanya, I’m all right!” I said in an even tone, feeling her mood through the link that bound us.

She hovered on a killing edge, her mate wounded in front of her and the need to defend and attack almost overwhelming in its intensity.

Roy has only met her a handful of times, all when she was on her most ‘human’ behavior. Now, she stood in the doorway, beautiful beyond words, but stripped of anything human. He sensed it too. Humans can scoff at the supernatural all they like, but face to face with it, even the most obtuse person can sense eminent death. Now, the most dangerous vampire of them all was standing in the doorway, framed by the late afternoon sun, driven almost insane. Tanya moved forward, visible to my eyes, but too fast for either Roy or Gina to see. She stopped in front of me, torn with indecision. That old bond came in pretty handy. I could tell she wanted to grab me, but she sensed my pain and was afraid to compound my wound. I stood and hugged her with my good right arm, which also meant she was a teeny bit contained within my embrace.

I didn’t think she would hurt Roy, and not likely Gina. Toni was almost certainly safe, but one didn’t take chances with a maddened vampire.

“You lie!” she said, her Russian accent thick, like it gets when she is upset or emotional.

“Often,” I agreed. “Yeah, I’m wounded. Nothing the good doctor can’t fix.”

She hissed suddenly, leaning forward to sniff my left side and then hissed again.

“You stink!” she uttered.

“Well thanks,” I replied. She grimaced, looking irritated but I could sense relief mixing in with the concern.

“No, your wound, it stinks....like poison! We're going to Singh now!” she stated.

“Ah, Tanya, I'm not sure if I can leave,” I said, looking at the Velasquiz family.

Gina's cell phone buzzed just then and she glanced away from the edgy vampire to read it.

“Chris, it's from Creek. He's headed here with some of his team. I think he knows about the mess up the street,” she said.

“Christian, WE are LEAVING, now!” Tanya said, her tone indicating no wasn't in her vocabulary.

“Chris, we'll be alright. The General and his men will be here soon. Get going! I'll cover,” Gina said.

I was already moving, being towed by an irresistible force that had latched onto my arm.

“Okay,” I managed to say before we were out the door.

Tanya turned right at the bottom steps, away from the flashing lights and noise up the street. Ahead of us, I could see a black sedan pull up, window heavily tinted. I recognized it as one of the Coven's.

Just behind us, a police car whooped its siren, a glance back found the cops looking at us.

I didn't know either of the patrolmen in the squad car, but their intense gazes showed their interest in us.

“You two! Stop!” the passenger cop said out his window as the car pulled alongside us. Tanya leaned over, never stopping and spoke in a ringing tone. “Forget and Leave,” she commanded.

The cops both blinked, then turned straight ahead, the driver accelerating away. An older couple standing two houses down, watching, suddenly turned and walked back into their house, looking straight ahead like zombies.

“Wow! That's pretty handy,” I said, the pain in my side doubling as we walked. I could feel a lump under the blue jacket that was still pressed over the wound, but I wasn't going to stop and take a look here on the street. Tanya ignored me, instead moving me faster to the big car, whose rear door was now open and waiting.

Chapter 16

“Depleted Uranium!” Doctor Singh announced, coming back into the exam room unannounced.

“Excuse me?” I asked, not sure I had heard him correctly. My left side was now on fire, my left ear ringing, left eye watering uncontrollably.

“The toxin in your body is depleted uranium. Powdered. It's poisoning you,” he explained with a grin at his own cleverness. “Military use it in anti-tank rounds.”

Tanya hissed at his expression, and the vampire doctor suddenly remembered what he was dealing with. Both of his hands came up, palms out. “It's okay! I can clean it out! He'll be fine!” he reassured her quickly.

“Ah, that's great Doc, can we maybe get started with that whole clean out thing? This stuff burns!” I noted.

“What about the white thing, the needle thing?” Lydia asked from where she was leafing through a copy of Neo Pagan Today. The cover shot had a picture of Lady Gaga of all things.

“The delivery device was bone, possibly a human ulna. It was broken, but it might have had some type of compressed air in it to push out the DU powder,” he explained. His assistant wheeled in a tray of medical instruments, her gaze carefully away from my naked torso. Understandable as Tanya watched her like a hawk ready to rend a mouse. My mate was still very much on edge, angry and looking for something to kill. Probably not the best time to sneak a peek at her Chosen. The assistant used to creep me out, but as I've changed, I've gotten used to her. And I’ve had to spend a seriously large amount of time in the good doctor's office.

“Human arm bone huh? Wouldn't steel or even aluminum be a better choice?” Lydia asked, perking up at the mystery. It had taken a solid two hours for him to arrive at the answer. The only treatment I had undergone was a careful rinse with purified water. All that had done was to float away a sample of the silvery powder.

“I suspect the bone was taken from a special subject, someone whose life and death was such that it could have influential power of young Christian here,” he said, arraigning his elegant form on a stool next to where I lay on the exam table.

“What influence?” Tanya asked in a tone that had his immediate attention.

“I'm not sure, it's all just a hunch,” he began, then hurried on as he took in her expression. “Either someone who led a particularly evil life or a particularly good life.”

“Huh?” Lydia asked, both eyebrows up.

“Chris has a dual nature, like every being, but his bad side has been enhanced by demon blood, while his good side would seem to come from God,” he said. “I'm betting that this bone was meant to overwhelm one of those sides. My money is on the good side.”

“Why?” Tanya asked, intense.

“Because, my Queen, he has some healing ability with his Heaven sent side. Plus, the rather dramatic way he dealt with the assailants would seem to indicate that his dark side was unimpeded,” he said, now bent over my side with some kind of scraping tool in his hand. “Ah, this is going to hurt, I think. You don't respond to any anesthetics,” he said in apology.

He was right, it hurt like hell. I chose to concentrate on Tanya's hand where it was holding me down, as well as ponder his use of the word 'Queen'. It had started among the younger vamps with the term Young Queen, spoken lightly. Now it had progressed to just Queen, and was being used by all the Darkkin. Recently, I had noticed myself being called 'Chosen' like it was a title or something. A lot of vamps had Chosen mates, usually other vamps who chose them back. But the term seemed more formal when applied to me. My interaction with regular vamps was pretty limited. I mostly just dealt with Tanya's inner circle.

The pain ratcheted up a notch, but oddly I could feel Tanya's relief through it. She tended to ignore pain and would view the doctor's efforts to clean the DU from my body as worthy of almost any level of agony.

“Yeah, Chris, you pretty much smeared those guys!” Lydia agreed from her corner.

Arkady's report to his Queen had included a pretty thorough description of the attack site. Six dead, two critically injured, a shattered, burnt husk of an SUV, and a city garbage truck that needed a new radiator and grill.

“She's right, Chris, your counter attack, all while protecting the child, was immediate and total. You become more formidable by the day!” Dr. Singh said.

“Not me…Grim,” I said.

“What?” Lydia asked, her attention completely on me.

“It was Grim, or the Grim part of me that responded. No lag time,” I said.

“You let him out right?” Lydia asked. Tanya just watched me. I think she knew the answer already.

“There isn't anything to let him out of. The cell door is gone,” I replied, gritting my teeth at a particularly intense scrape by the doc.

“How did that happen?” Lydia asked.

“Long story. My last nesssstt! Owww!” I hissed. Tanya chuckled slightly, happy now that the wound had been abraded clean. “Jeeze, Doc! You gotta work on your technique a bit,” I said.

He shrugged, not at all bothered by my pain. “Pain is good! Means you’re still in the fight!” he said, putting down his instrument of torture and taking the irrigation syringe from his assistant. “Although, another six months or so and we wouldn't be needing to do this,” he commented, while carefully examining the now clean and very raw wound.

I saw my opening and jumped in before Lydia could ask about Grim.

“What's that supposed to mean?” I asked the doctor.

“Your skin isn't as tough as you are yet. It hasn't progressed at the same pace as your other attributes,” he answered.

“Not following,” I said.

“Vampire skin toughens with age. Networks of carbon fibers begin to layer just under the outer epidermis. The older the vamp the stronger the skin. Our Queen here was born with skin the same strength as Arkady has now. Yours is pretty good for a one year old, but nowhere near as tough as it will be. A bone hypodermic wouldn't have penetrated Tanya's skin.”

“But silver would have?” I asked.

“Silver is the one metal our skin never gets resistant to. It doesn't bother you much. However, this depleted uranium seems much more toxic to you than to Darkkin.”

“Hah, you do have a kryptonite!” Lydia said.

“Well, he doesn't react as much to DU as Superman does to kryptonite,” the doctor mused.

“Really? You're really comparing this to a fictional superhero?” I asked.

Lydia laughed and stuck her tongue out at me. I returned the favor, causing Tanya to snort.

“He's better already Dr. Singh,” my blue-eyed night angel commented.

It was true. I felt better, if not a hundred percent, and I could feel the wound healing, although much slower than normal.

“I don't believe the bone got in far enough to affect much of his good nature, but let's have look at him tomorrow night,” the doctor said.

“Thank you Doctor,” Tanya said.

“Always, my Queen,” he replied with a short bow. He used the term without any hint of self consciousness, totally comfortable with conferring royal status on her. I put my clothes back on and shucked my feet into my shoes, too tired to tie them. Then I looked at my left hand and concentrated on forming a mono-edge. For a moment nothing happened, then the violet line of gleaming aura lit up around my hand. It was dim and weak, sputtering in places. A moment later it went out, gone on its own. My right hand had no trouble forming and keeping a solid edge.

“You ready?” Tanya said, coming back into the room.

“Yeah,” was all I said.

We left with me thinking more about that than my pain.

Chapter 17

“How’s the wound, Chris?” Gina’s voice asked from the Polycom conference phone on the table. We were gathered in our rooms, Tanya, Lydia, Arkady, Galina, Chet and one of the administrative assistants, Lexi. I was sitting at the table, chowing on a mixing bowl of clam chowder and a small stack of grilled cheese sandwichs. Lydia was sitting on our bed, legs crossed, note pad in hand, chewing idly on her pen. Galina stood in the archway to Tanya’s closet, Arkady leaned against the closed bedroom door and Tanya paced around the table, running her hand across my shoulders every time she passed behind me, as if reassuring herself. Chet sat across from me, very aware of the vampires, but still poaching oyster crackers from beside my bowl. Lexi stood, almost at attention, next to Arkady.

“Well, it’s clean and healing, but sore as hell,” I replied. “How’s Toni?”

“Actually, pretty good. She was scared, but doesn’t seem to have any memory of what happened.”

“It was very fast,” I said, “What’s the word about that team that attacked me?”

Gina’s voice was puzzled as she answered. “They’re all dead.”

“We know that!” Galina spoke sharply.

“Wait, even the two wounded ones?” I asked.

“Okay, I said that wrong. But yes even the two wounded men died,” Gina said. “They died rather mysteriously at the hospital. But what I meant is that General Creek’s group has run background checks on the fingerprints of them and all were listed as dead already.”

“Explain,” Tanya directed.

“Every one of them was military, all reported killed in action at some point in the last eight months or so.”

“So, they were reported killed, but recruited to ..what? Some kind of black ops unit? They moved faster than regular humans,” I said.

“We’re waiting on the autopsies now. Creek had the whole scene locked down and turned over to his pet FBI team. Really roasted the NYPD and the local Bureau office, they’re madder than hell.”

“Stepped on a few toes, huh?” I asked.

“Well he is a general. Not real big on diplomacy,” she said. “Chris, what can you tell me, what do you remember?”

“Just a couple of things. A female jogger approached, smiled at me and then appeared to stumble, but instead jabbed me with a bone needle full of depleted uranium. Grim took over and that was that. There was a young guy on that team, Middle Eastern or Mediterranean features. I noticed him at Columbia yesterday. He kept popping up in the subway and at the Chinese food place.”

“Okay, I’ll see if we can ID him. If they were tracking you at Columbia and then tracked you to Toni’s school, than they know a lot about you,” Gina said. “Chris, tell me about Grim? You said he just took over?”

The vampires all went still, that creepy nonhuman frozen state they sometimes slip into when interested in something.

“Yeah, it went like this. The girl slipped, jabbed and then we were on the roof next door. There was no transition,” I said.

“You haven’t rebuilt the cell door? Like we did the first one, image by image?”

I shook my head, then realized she couldn’t see it. “No, there hasn’t been time?”

“Really? You couldn’t find ten minutes or fifteen minutes here or there?” she asked.

I paused, thinking it through. “Yeah, you’re pretty much right. Not a good answer. The truth is that it just didn’t seem right to rebuild it,” I answered, then waited for a firestorm.

“Why?” Tanya asked, before Gina could speak up.

“I don’t know. It just didn’t somehow,” I answered, shrugging.

“How did the child survive?” Galina interjected suddenly. We all looked at her in question, so she went on. “The speeds at which Chris moves are beyond all but the oldest vampires. How could a human child survive moving at that speed without damage?” she asked.

They all turned back to me. “I’ve been wondering about that myself?” Gina said, a little catch in her voice betraying her mother’s fear.

“Grim bubble wrapped her,” I said.

“Huh? What means this ‘bubble wrapped’ Kemosabe?” Lydia asked from the bed.

“He or I or whatever shielded her with aura, like a big bubble,” I answered, replaying the moment in my head.

“Okay, so she’s in a bubble, which protects her from outside things, but then you accelerate from like zero to seventy in less than a second. What keeps her brain from smashing inside her skull?” Lydia asked. A tiny sound, maybe a gasp or a word catching in a throat, slid from the speakerphone. I glared at Lydia, she mouthed “oops, my bad!”

I thought about Lydia’s question and re-re-played the memory. “I think that there were opposite forces applied inside the bubble every time I moved,” I said.

Everyone looked at me blankly, except Arkady, who was nodding his head.

“Equal forces applied in opposite direction cancels out first force,” he stated.

That earned him a whole group of surprised looks. Chet’s expression was priceless.

“You’re saying that Grim applied opposite forces to Toni exactly matching the forces that buffeted her from every side all while fighting eight humans?” Gina asked, incredulous.

“Uh, yeah, pretty much,” I said.

Arkady snorted. “Eight humans not much of fight for Christian.”

“True dat!” Lydia said, chewing her pen in thought.

“Hah! You are sooo street, Lydia,” I quipped.

“Word!’ she agreed.

Chet had started scribbling equations onto his tablet computer like mad, now he paused and scratched his head. “It would work, but it’s complicated.” He suddenly realized he had spoken and then froze, nervous. Tanya was pacing by his side of the table and she stopped, putting both hands on his shoulders in a familiar, friendly way. I grinned at him. She was both reassuring him and giving notice to all that this human was under her protection. The others all knew it, except maybe Lexi whose eyes widened just slightly before looking back at her iPad.

I shrugged. “Vampire physics are all complicated, but most do it instinctively. The complicated stuff takes practice and age, but I’ve been handling aura all my life.”

“And Grim learns everything that you do!” Galina said.

“Grim is Chris, Chris is Grim. Just two aspects of the same person, albeit highly specialized in Grim’s case. Just like the business persona and the home persona that all of us have,” Gina said.

“And it sounds like Grim is integrating,” she added.

“What is that?” Chet asked before I could.

“When you treat someone with MDS, multiple-personality disorder, your goal is to integrate the disparate personalities into a single unit like most people have. I think Chris and Grim are integrating, although I think the Grim side will continue to handle surprise situations like this one.”

“I am more interested in who attacked my Christian,” Tanya said in an icy tone that got everyone’s attention.

“That’s the same question that Creek wants answered. The President is worried about Okwari,” Gina said. “How’s he taking it, Chris?”

Everyone turned for my response. Funny how much interest an elder god’s mood gets.

“Since I handled it on the spot, it doesn’t seem to bother him,” I said, which was true. I left out the part about him not responding at all. The rest seemed satisfied with that but Tanya watched me, not fooled.

“How can the President not know about another covert group hunting Chris?” Chet asked suddenly.

“A president is only in office for four to eight years. The federal government is a bureaucratic labyrinth. No way to know all the projects, operations and secret groups. Most are policed by Congressional oversight, but remember…the people that run these are the sneakiest in the country,” Gina said. “Some groups have been in existence for decades.”

“So you’re saying a government funded group could be attempting to kill or kidnap Chris and the rest of the government wouldn’t know it?” Lydia asked.

“Yes, in a nutshell,” Gina agreed.

There was a pause as everyone digested that.

“What are the next steps?” Galina asked.

“Creek will continue to look for answers, I suggest you each do the same,” Gina said.

“I’ll see if I can glean anything from the defense department network,” Chet said.

“Carefully, yes?” Arkady asked.

Chet started to come back with some smart answer, but glanced at me and then just nodded.

“I think I’ll go to church!” I announced, managing to shock everyone in the room. I looked at Tanya. “Wanna come along?”

Chapter 18

We exited the underground near Washington Square and moved to Judson Memorial church at Washington Square South. My intentions were for just Tanya and I, but no one was interested in my opinion. A small army of vampires fanned out into the night and took up overwatch positions around and in the grand old building.

We had barely stepped into the place when Barbiel was just suddenly there, standing in front of us. Tanya jumped slightly, which made me grin, I’ve never seen her startled . No one had ever snuck up her before.

“There you are! About time! Oh, hello Lai…er.. Tatiana,” he said in a rush.

I was startled that Tanya could see him and that he knew her. I also wanted to know what he almost said.

“What did you call her?” I asked.

“Tatiana, that is her name, no?” he asked, the picture of innocence.

Tanya was wide-eyed with wonder. She had issues with vampire souls, which I could see and which she didn’t believe in. Meeting an angel was therefore a rather impactful experience.

“Bullshit!” I answered.

Tanya gave me a reproachful look, awed by the angel. Barbiel ignored my outburst, instead looking intensely at my left side. A grimace of distaste flickered across his inhumanly perfect features, followed by concern.

“What is this? What has happened?” he demanded.

I let the name slip go, but I was intrigued by what he had almost called her.

“Christian was attacked with an arm bone of uranium,” Tanya supplied, still wowed by Barbiel.

“A what?” he asked, already confused. It was gonna be a long conversation.

“I was stabbed with a bone needle full of depleted uranium powder. The bone came from a human ulna,” I said, pulling the silk wrapped needle from my pocket. Silk is a great insulator of both heat and magic or whatever it is that witches and demons use. Or what I use for that matter.

I unwrapped the bone and Barbiel leaned close. He recoiled a little at first sight of it, then tentatively touched it with one finger.

“This was a particularly evil man, he was from Mesopotamia,” he pronounced.

“Huh?” was my brilliant response.

“Iraq was known as Mesopotamia in times past,” Tanya supplied.

“So it’s old?” I questioned. He shook his head.

“No, he lived and died recently. He was a mass murderer, a soldier for the previous ruler of …Iraq,” he looked at Tanya as he used the current name. Then he leaned over my side and sniffed. “There is a faint taint left,” he said.

“Will it go away?” Tanya asked.

“Yes, it is fading, but it may cause you pain when you invoke your Gift,” he said.

“How would whoever attacked me know to use this combination of evil bone and toxic powder?” I asked.

“A demon would know,” he said simply.

“So they are in cahoots with Hellbourne?” I questioned.

“Most likely, although they may not know it. Demon kind are skilled at concealing their true nature.”

I paused for a moment thinking it through. There didn’t seem much more he could tell me about that but I had other questions.

“Barbiel, do you know why Okwari hasn’t been around?” I asked, fearful he would have no clue.

He nodded. “Elder ones such as the bear are not allowed in this realm. It is against the Accords. But as he was a slave and was brought here against his will, he’s been given some leeway since his release. That time has about run out,” he answered, confirming my own guesses.

“Can I contact him in other ways? Like the native peoples did?”

“Contact is allowed, just not actual presence, much like I am only able to meet with you on Holy ground,” he said. “I can’t tell you the proper method though, you’ll have to look elsewhere for those answers.”

He turned to Tanya. “I am very happy to see you with Christian.”

She just nodded, unsure of what to say.

“Hey Barbiel, do vampires have souls?” I asked.

“What? What kind of question is that? Of course they have souls!” he said, his tone indicating my question was idiocy of monumental proportions.

“My best half has her doubts,” I said, throwing Tanya under the bus.

She smacked me on the arm, then turned back to the angel, who was smiling at her.

I rubbed my bicep as Tanya’s love taps can smash cinderblocks.

“Tanya, if I may use the familiar version of your name?” he started, then went on at her nod. “You most certainly have a soul! And while I am forbidden from telling you too much, I will let slip that I have known your soul for a very long time and it is among the purest of Yahweh’s flock.”

She was speechless so I asked a question that I could feel that she wanted to ask herself.

“How is it that vampires aren’t damned by the transformation?”

He looked at me as if surprised that I would ask that question. Then he nodded.

“Since I know that you can see souls, Christian, I am guessing this line of inquiry is to help assuage Tanya’s curiosity?” he asked. I nodded.

“Vampirism and wereism are conditions caused by viruses. There is nothing inherently evil about any disease, all are tests of the soul. But when a vampire or were chooses to give over to their dark side and kill with abandon, well then, they are damned.”

“So they failed the test all on their own,” I stated. He nodded. “That’s not much different than a regular man choosing to rape or murder someone.” He nodded again.

“I have chosen to kill!” Tanya said.

He nodded once more. “But you chose to kill to protect and defend,” he said. Her blue eyes flashed defiantly and I knew she was thinking of her childhood nursemaid, whom she killed by accident when she was eight.

Barbiel spoke before she could, proving his angelic nature with his next sentence.

“The death of Belina wasn’t your fault Tanya,” he said gently. Her eyes got really wide and her mouth formed an ‘O’ all on its own.

“If it hasn’t occurred to you before then I will tell you just a little more than I’m supposed to. You have been linked to him-” he said, poking me in the chest with a finger, “long before you met. You’ve been linked for longer than you’ve been alive! In fact, you have always been paired, and when Christian’s family was attacked and killed, you felt it! Killing Belina was accidental, unintentional and completely reflex…..and she still loves you, you know.”

Her eyes were filled with tears, which started leaking down her perfect cheeks. He smiled at her, gently, then suddenly looked up in annoyance.

“I’ve said too much and am being called to task,” he said.

“We didn’t mean to get you in trouble!” I said.

“Pahh! Sometimes they think they can do my job better than I from afar. I have news for them….I will do this as I think right!” he said with a smile and a gleam in his eye, then he was gone. It seemed my uncertain angel was growing more comfortable with his job.

I turned to Tanya just in time to get wrapped in a vise-like embrace as she sobbed into my shoulder. I’ve only seen her cry a very few times and never like this, so I just held her…as long as she needed to be held.

***

When we got back to Citadel, Tanya was swarmed with administrators, all festering with Coven business. I decided to touch base with Chet.

“Nothing new, dude. The defense network is really quiet about the attack. News media is all over it, but the official word is a gang shootout. That’s got people really upset, as that part of Brooklyn is generally very peaceful and removed from that sort of thing,” he said.

“Change of topic. Talk to me about Pitcairn?” I asked.

“Yeah, he called me after your class. Said you two got off to a rocky start.”

“Funny how it went. Once I mentioned your name he got all curious and acted like he knew something about me. Weird, because, I mean, how could he?” I asked, giving him my hard stare.

“Yeah, about that! See I mighta let on that you’ve had an experience or two in his area of expertise, you know, just to tweak his interest and make sure he treats you right!” he said, spinning it to look like he had done it all for me. Yeah right!

“Chester….Chet…you understand that you gotta keep all this on the down low, right? I mean, I would get mad at you, but there are others that would take it further, if you get my drift?”

His dark skin paled noticeably as he realized that the vampires might see it as a breach of faith regarding their existence. His gaze shifted to look across the cavernous communications room where several of Arkady’s security team were lounging about. Odd, they were some of the guys that had gone with Tanya and I to the church. I hadn’t noticed them on the way to visit Chet.

“Like them?” he asked.

“Well, not them exactly but you get the idea,” I answered.

“Chris, can I ask a question?”

“Sure,” I said.

“How do you deal with it?” His expression was curious.

“With what?”

“You know….all the Chosen and Queen and that sorta thing?” he asked.

“Well to be honest, I only just noticed it. How long have they been calling her ‘the Queen’?”

“Pretty much all summer. Young Queen just sorta segued into Queen. They’ve been referring to you as the Chosen or the Queen’s Chosen almost as long. Lots of whispering that stops when I’m near,” he said with a sigh.

“How are you doing Chet? Dealing with this as a job?” I waved my hand to take in the whole concept of the Coven.

He frowned in thought. “It’s a little surreal. Sometimes kinda creepy, but I don’t honestly feel too scared by the rank and file. They all treat me with kid gloves ‘cause they know we’re –“ he waved back and forth between us,”- buds. And the pay is great and the tech is ridiculous! Stuff I’ve never even heard of falls into my lap for testing. And they really value my opinion about this stuff,” he said. “But the way they act around you and Tanya is like religious cult or something. I’ll tell you right now, Mr. Chris ‘Jim’ Jones – I ain’t drinking no kool aid!”

That made me laugh, although I was troubled to hear about the quasi cult feel that it had for him.

“They treat you okay, then? No threats?” I asked.

“I won’t kid ya, it can be scary sometimes! ‘specially with new vamps that I haven’t met before. They sometimes look at me like I’m a snack pack or sumpthin. But then they see the tat on my neck and it’s like I’m lunch gone bad! If I get introduced it’s usually as the ‘Queens tekkie dude’ or ‘the Chosen’s friend’, then it’s all different! I go from human scum to important person in seconds flat.”

“I didn’t realize I had any impact like that,” I said. He looked at me like I was nuts.

“You’re messing with me right? You gotta be!” he studied my face for a moment, then swore under his breath. “Dude, I swear you are clueless sometimes!” His voice got louder and several heads turned our way, including the three security vamps.

“Easy Chet….so I’m an idiot. That’s not hardly news,” I said, making palm down ‘lower your voice’ motions with my hands.

He leaned over and turned up a speaker, flooding his area with white noise that might help block vampire hearing. We were far enough away with enough noise pollution from the rest of the room’s electronics that it would probably do the job. If I couldn’t hear the vamps on the other side of the room, than they couldn’t hear me.

“Listen,” he said, just above a whisper, “in case it’s completely slipped your attention you have a real reputation.”

I nodded to acknowledge that I knew that.

“I don’t mean as just a fighter, either,” he said, then went on at my frown. “There is all the stuff about you killing an Elder, fighting demons, and killing hundreds of Loki’s. There’s also the part where they refer to you as the one who sees vampire souls, as the bear-god’s companion and the confidant of angels.”

I must have gone wide eyed at that because he started to laugh.

“Ha, you should see your face right now! Honestly, dude, did you think they were looking at you sideways just cause you kick ass? Oooh, I see, you did think it was ‘cause of the ass kicking. Well, you should also know that the Coven went nuts last night after you got attacked. They don’t talk to me much, but they forget I wield some mean electronics,” he said, turning his head and tapping a tiny hearing device in his ear that I hadn’t noticed before.

“They’re really edgy about anything that threatens their Queen or her Chosen. Those dudes over there are watching you, like the Secret Service watches the Prez.”

I had to find out more about this. It seemed a lot had changed while I had been spending my summer hunting Spawn. I said goodbye and went looking for the best source of information I knew of….Lydia.

Chapter 19

I found her in the business center, running a conference call with vampires in Australia, China and Canada. I helped myself to coffee (who knew vampires liked Columbian bean) and waited for her to finish up her call. Lydia seemed to be directing the acquisition of a copper mining company down under, getting updated on oil sand operations in the far North, while discussing something about housing in the Middle Kingdom. Since part of her conversation was in Chinese I couldn’t follow it. She ignored me till the final connection (China) was cut.

“Yo demon spanker! What’s up? You feeling okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m healing, just a few twinges. Listen, I wanted to ask you some questions,” I said, looking around and noticing how many ears were present. The business center is huge, a veritable beehive of activity, but a lot of attention had swung my way as soon as I entered the room.

‘Sounds serious,” she said, watching me watch the room.

“Kinda sorta. Mostly just curious about some things,” I said, noting the presence of my security shadows. She nodded, pulling me into a little glass walled office that smelled of her.

“Okay, speak to me. What’s on your mind?” she asked.

“I think I need to know about politics….vampire politics,” I said.

“Whoa, this is serious!” she smirked.

‘Yeah, kinda a sign of the apocalypse. Chris Gordon interested in politics and the seventh seal found broken! Film at eleven,” I intoned in my best newscaster voice.

She chuckled, then hopped up to sit on the desk, legs crossed.

“What do you want to know?”

“Okay, first of all, what’s with all this ‘Queen and Chosen’ stuff?”

She looked at levelly as she considered her answer.

“Finally noticed all that, huh?” she asked. I nodded.

“Well, it goes like this….when Tanya was born it was a monumental event in our world. Almost religious, you could say,” she said. “After all, vampires are made, not born, right?”

I nodded again, not wanting to interrupt the flow.

“Also, vampires have no souls, right?” she asked, but held her hand up to forestall my answer.

“But here is this actual birth of a baby vampire, more advanced at birth than a hundred year old. The implications were enormous. All kind of predictions were made, pseudo-prophecies. But the one that seemed to catch hold and sink in to our society was that a Queen vampire had been born. A leader who would grow up and guide us – bring us all to Heaven or something, you get the drift. A savior type deal. And she grew fast, smart as a whip, strong and lightning quick. Then came the death of Belina and her silence. But even then, she learned fast. Then you come along, saving our savior, giving her back her voice and transforming into….what you are.”

Lydia paused to see how well I was following. I nodded and waved her on.

“The years of silence had disappointed and disillusioned a great many Darkkin. When she chose you and ‘reawakened’ they started to regain their belief in the idea. Then Arkady, who has always been the biggest of believers, started the Young Queen talk. It spread like wildfire and now it’s shortened to just Queen.”

“So it’s universal among Darkkin?” I asked.

“Ah, there’s the rub!” she said with a sardonic smile. “It was never universal and really fell out of favor during the silent years. Now covens around the world are trying to balance themselves between those who believe in the fable and those who don’t. That’s why there’s been this stream of visitors. Vampire politics are fractious at best and change with the wind. Darkkin prefer to follow strong leaders, the stronger the better. Our Elders are obviously that, but the world is a big place. With Fedor dead, there are only two to do the work of three. Reining in ambitious upstarts has become a full time job for them.”

“Well, I won’t say I’m sorry he’s gone,” I said.

She laughed. “Me either! But this is why Illarion is visiting. He’s popular among the Russian and Eastern European vampires. He’s also been one of the most vocal against Tanya.”

I raised my eyebrows at that. “But he’s her uncle!”

“Yeah, not an advantage in this case. He sees her as a kid niece. That’s part of the reason she felt compelled to sic Arkady on you and let you demonstrate your abilities. But now I’m hearing that Illarion is passing it off as a scripted setup. No more real than professional wrestling.”

“He was there! He didn’t believe it?” I asked, incredulous.

“I didn’t say he didn’t believe it…I said he was ‘saying’ it was fake,” she explained.

“Oh,” was all I could come up with as the realization hit. I had pretty much ignored the groups of visitors, wrapped up in my Loki hunting. I had been on hand to meet and greet many of them, but I hadn’t expended any brainpower wondering why they were there.

“I guess I should have paid more attention,” I said.

“What with all the Loki hunting and the random demon exorcisms, not to mention adjusting to your own changes, all while trying to stay clear of the government, well, I'm personally amazed you noticed now,” she said, smiling.

“So how does it look, supporter wise?” I asked.

“Most of North America is enthralled with her. Western Europe and much of Asia. South America and Africa are mixed. Austrailia loves her for the most part. Central America, Russia and Eastern Europe are big hold outs. There are small groups everywhere that are uncertain.”

“Russia?” I asked.

“Yeah, go figure. Seeing as how she's born of Russian vampires you'd think it was a given, but Fedor was against her,” Lydia said.

“So what's the upshot? Is she in danger? Is there a civil war brewing?” I asked.

“Not so much a civil war, the number of supporters way outweigh the anti-Tanyas. But she's always in danger, much like any celebrity, but more so, as Darkkin are creatures of extremes. Also, different factions will always seek to sway her by whatever means to their side.”

“Anti-Tanya?” I didn't much care for the sound of that.

“Easy tiger!” she said, reading my expression. “This is why we haven't gone over this kinda stuff before. We don't need the Queen's Chosen on a blood hunt!”

“Queen's Chosen? Not you too?” I groaned.

She laughed, her tone high and musical. “Hey, I adapt and go with the flow. But, seriously, don't do anything, all right? I mean it! You don't know the effect you could have on the whole situation.”

“But Lyd..” I started but she pressed both palms at me to stop.

“Look out at my business center,” she directed. I turned and looked out at the twenty or so cubicles.

A small sea of faces was looking in our direction.

“I guarantee you that most of the web cams on their computers are focused on you right now,” she said.

“Why?” I couldn't fathom it.

“Because most of the people on the other end have never seen you, but they've heard all about you!” she said, watching my face. “The Queen's Chosen has saved her many times, awoke her from her silence, and transformed into something new. You're the man who took on three hundred weres and the entire U.S. Government to protect their Queen.”

“I don't even have a red cape yet,” I joked, trying to cover my horror at what she was saying.

“You're also the man who sees vampire souls and talks with angels,” she added softly.

“How the hell do they know that?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Darkkin love secrets and gossip, but only if it's juicy. Nothing is juicier than you and Tanya! Stories spread. Like, for instance, I'm already hearing rumors of your church trip a few hours ago.”

“And what do those rumors say?” I asked.

“That you saw an angel about your wound,” she said with a knowing smile.

“Arkady's men have big mouths!” I said, angry.

“Listen, Chris, the Coven is wired and widespread. Darkkin were sure to see you two and your entourage moving through Citadel and the streets above. We aren't a stupid race, at least not the ones who survive more than forty years or so.”

“Lydia, I'm kinda lost here...I don't do politics. Never have. Actually, I never belonged to any group that had any politics,” I said.

She gave me a little smile, almost wistful. “Hey, that's old life stuff. This is your new life as we Darkkin say.”

“Lyd, I'm not Darkkin,” I reminded her.

“Correction,” she held up one finger. “You're not vampire! But you are Coven, and Coven is Darkkin! So don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Now, what you need to do is...not much different than you've been doing. Let me and the Elders worry about politics. You've got school later today right?”

I glanced at the string of world clocks on the wall. The one that had 'New York' under it showed we were well into the early hours of Thursday.

“Yeah, I probably outta get some sleep,” I said, my brain still reeling from the bombs she had dropped inside it.

“Yes, you should – and get some of that disgusting human food into you before you sleep. You're still healing!”

“Yes Mother,” I grinned and headed out. But as I turned toward the door, I saw her reflection in the glass (yes – vampires do cast reflections) and so, caught her nod to the security dudes loafing by the entryway. I left with a head full of unfamiliar thoughts and a shadowy cloud of bodyguards.

Chapter 20

It was past noon when I awoke. Tanya had her arms wrapped tightly around me and I had difficulty breaking her steel hold as I didn't want to disturb her. Tickling her side did nothing, but a soft kiss on her neck caused a sigh and shift that let me slide free. It was unusual for her to hold me that tight in her sleep and it told me a great deal about her level of concern.

Citadel is a very quiet place in the daytime. Mostly just the human security force, some of whom man computer terminals programmed to give alarm for ilicit entry, fire, or even a precipitous decline in the stock markets. A very few conscious vampires were scattered about the place, only those over about a hundred and fifty years. Even these were mostly immobile, slowed by the weight of the day.

I foraged in the kitchen nearest our suite, finding a pretty well stocked fridge and pantry. Not surprising as most of the human team was clustered around the 'Queen's' quarters, stationed for maximum protection by Arkady. Two grilled ham and swiss sandwiches later, plus a mixing bowl of seafood Newburg left me temporarily full. I tried to form a mono-edge around my left hand but it stilled flickered, although it was a bit better than the previous evening's attempt. It wasn't reliable like my right hand, so after some thought I returned to the suite and dug into the box of personal stuff crammed in the back of my corner of the dance hall that Tanya calls her closet. My father's .44 magnum was right where I had packed it, snapped into a DeSantis cross draw holster, four speedloaders of mid-power magnums wrapped with it. Steve Sommers, the armorer for the NYPD Special Situation Squad had handloaded a good supply of silver filled ammo for the hefty revolver and I made sure the cylinder and loaders were full of the good stuff.

The weather report had indicated a cool, rainy day, which meant I could probably wear my vest. It looked like a light, quilted black nylon vest but had hidden pistol pockets built in that were sturdy enough to carry the three-inch barreled Smith and Wesson Trailboss. A little bulky but my torso is v-shaped enough, angling down sharply to my waist, to leave plenty of room for the gun and vest to hang without printing. The speedloaders went into the hidden compartment on the left side, the revolver on my right, set up for a left hand draw. My 'transformation' had left me with the ability to shoot equally well with either hand. The vest is very minimally insulated, so it would be okay for my higher body temperature.

Fed and armed, I headed out into the city, emerging well away from Columbia or any of my usual exits. Then I took a cab, watching closely for anyone who might be following and paying attention to my Grim instincts. Nothing hinky, so I got out East of the University, paid the cabbie and slowly made my way to the campus, placing a call while I walked. The phone I used was a new one, taken from the stash that Chet makes for the Coven’s use. My signal was routing all around the world before arriving back in the same city.

“Hello?”

“Hey Gina, what’s the word?” I asked.

“Hey yourself! The word is black,” she responded.

“How black?”

“Like a rogue black hole,” she said. I was pretty certain the word rogue wasn’t by chance. Her careful speech indicated we were being listened to.

“Those rogues are bad, never know what part of space you’ll find them in.”

“Yup, ya gotta be careful!” she agreed. “Hey, studying today?”

“Yeah, on my way, why?”

“You’ll see a lot of old friends in class,” she said.

“Really?” I asked.

“Yup, lots,” was her answer. “Hey, gotta run, I’ll chat with you later.”

“Okay,” I answered and hung up. She wanted the call to be over fast. The part about friends most likely meant Creek’s people hanging nearby.

The campus was busy, students milling in groups despite the cool, wet weather. Summer wasn’t too far behind us, but the dark gray clouds brought to mind chilly Fall and snowy Winter weather. A group of young men were throwing a football on one of the grassy areas in the quad, and I skirted them on my way to Hamilton Hall.

“Heads up!” a voice yelled. I was already paying attention to an inner voice’s warning, my right hand snatching the descending football from the air before it could hit me in the head. The intended recipient of the throw jogged toward me to reclaim it. It took a second, because he was dressed in jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, but I recognized the tall, athletic form of Agent Perry, who had driven the vehicle that took the Keonie children home. He fit the role of a college kid pretty well, and the jock image was good cover for a military toned physique.

“Dude, nice catch,” he said as I tossed him the ball underhand. It was pretty good, particularly since I hadn’t ever looked at the ball. “Thanks,” I said, nodding back to him. The throw had been more accurate than it had seemed, achieving the goal of letting me know Creek’s men were all around the campus.

Continuing on, I glanced about, picking out one or two more faces that I had last seen in military battledress uniform. As I approached the entry to Hamilton a man in a dark suit stepped toward me, two more moving up behind me.

“Mr. Gordon…Agent Gentis, FBI,” he said, holding up a credential folder with his ID. I stopped and reined in my violent side which had immediately plotted out the most efficient combination of moves to kill all three agents.

“Ah, Agent Gentis, what can I do for you?” I asked, surprised by the blatant approach.

“You need to come with us, we have some questions for you,” he said, in a manner that precluded refusal.

“Can I see that ID again?” I asked, my Grim side just below the surface as the two agents came up behind me. I was conscious of the gun in my jacket, which wasn’t legal for me in NYC.

He frowned, pissed that I would doubt him, but still flashed the creds.

“You based here in the City, Agent Gentis?” I asked.

He frowned again, not liking my question.

I continued before he could answer. “Because I’m wondering if you know what you’re doing? Like did you bother to clear this action with anyone above you on the food chain?” I asked.

“Listen here! I don’t know who you..” he started, then cut off as a threesome in suits headed our way from the foyer of Hamilton. I also noticed Agent Perry’s band of football players moving closer.

Gentis turned to look at the salt and pepper buzz cut of the man leading the approaching group. General Creek was styling power broker in his expensive charcoal suit and his eyes were boring holes in Gentis as he marched up.

“Gentis, you having difficulty following orders?” he questioned, then kept speaking before the other could respond. “Because if you can’t understand the basic directive to steer away from this case, I can arraign an alternative career for you.”

Gentis grimaced, but shook his head. “No General Creek. I understand. I was going to ask Mr. Gordon here about an unrelated case involving property he owns upstate,” he said. Nobody in listening distance believed him, but I got a ring of truth about the unrelated case.

“Agent Gentis, let me repeat this once more! No agent of Homeland Security shall approach Mr. Gordon without prior authorization by my office! Is that clear? Do I need to explain it to anyone else in your chain of command?” the General said, his voice cold and quiet yet more effective than a shout.

The chastised agent moved off with his men, the angry set of his shoulders and head indicating I probably hadn't seen the last of him. I still didn't know why I had seen the first of him.

“General, what was that about?” I asked.

“That was about the mess you left me in Brooklyn!,” his angry tone now directed at me. I felt my eyebrows raise themselves as my own anger rose.

“Mess? But General Creek, that's what I do! I make messes out of people who attack me and mine, especially people who attack my goddaughter. And I'm really partial to making messes out of rogue black ops units who use...shall we say 'experimental' technology to carry out those attacks!” I said in a rough voice. The general and his men each took an involuntary step back, a look of realization flashing across most of their faces. I've spent years learning to avoid attention and remain innocuous. Other than my freakish eyes and looks, I still carry myself that way. So, I'm told it's easy for people of any flavor to forget what I'm capable of, which, it appears is what the good general did.

We have an uneasy relationship, General Creek and I. He thinks I'm too much of a loose cannon to be allowed to roam unchecked. The problem is I'm too big of a cannon for anyone in the government to 'check' me. Creek's a military man, through and through. A weapon of my potential belongs under lock and key. I can sympathize with that notion, but I disagree on being kept locked, particularly by everyone's favorite uncle – Sam.

“We're looking into that!” he said, his tone still brusque, his body language embarrassed. He continued,

“That was an interdepartmental rivalry that should have been squashed long ago. Gentis was involved with the investigation of I.S. 341, and the Atlantic Avenue situation. He was ultimately locked out of both investigations as well as this newest...one.”

“But he knows who I am?” I asked.

“He thinks you have something to do with these events, seeing as how your old NYPD unit was involved in....unexplained phenomenon. The fact that Gina lives two blocks from the Brooklyn ...incident, also intrigues him. Damage to the assailants matches much of what happened at the school. Then there is the fact that your name sets off red-flag alarms on all government systems and you can see his train of thought.”

I nodded, having allowed myself to calm down. “What did he mean by an incident with my property upstate. I haven't heard anything from my grandfather about an incident.”

“There was a death. Victim was found with animal wounds, but the local police were able to keep the autopsy sealed, so the extent of the mauling isn't known by the locals. I understand it happened near your land, but not on it. Gentis was just fishing.”

A mauling near my grandfather's farm raised my concern level sky high. Brett Mallek's pack lived on our land and this couldn't be a coincidence.

“Leave it to us, Gordon. Go take your religion class or whatever it is you're doing here,” he said, effectively dismissing both me and my use of time. He turned away, his posture telling me he was done with me for now, and implying I was a waste of time. I turned away, mentally crossing the general's name off my list of men I admired. Professor Pitcairn was angling across the quad, headed to Hamilton, watching my group from the corner of his eye. My path to the door brought me there at the same time he arrived. I paused to let him through first but he waved me onward.

“Making new friends, Gordon?” he asked, his tone sarcastic, but not in a mean way.

I snorted. “Just ironing out working arrangements, Professor,” I replied, as we head up the stairway.

“You know I had a nice chat with Chet Aikens about you, Mr. Gordon,” he said in a conversational kinda way.

“What a coincidence Professor, I had one with him about you!” mock surprise in my voice.

“He said that the questions you have may go a bit deeper than this class's range,” he stated.

“That's probably true, maybe a good deal deeper,” I said as we continued to climb.

“What are you looking to get from the class?” he asked, seemingly with genuine interest.

“I'm interested in Native beliefs and ceremonies. Particularly those that involve spirit guides,” I said.

He looked at me with curiosity. “I see....well, you're gonna like today's lecture than,” he said, leading the way into the classroom.

As before, the room was crowded, in fact, there seemed to be even more people and fewer desks open. A familiar triad of girls waved at me, and Kelsey indicated a seat between her and Jamie that held her bookbag until she lifted it clear. I sat down next to her and looked around. Everywhere a face looked back, mostly female, but some male as well. There definitely seemed to be more people, many without textbooks for the class. “Why so many people here?” I asked in a whisper.

She just smirked.

Pitcairn set his briefcase down and looked at the sea of faces, glancing my way before looking downward at his class notes.

“Well,” he began loudly, “it appears we have more people tonight than the class roster can account for.” A nervous laugh ran through the room.

“I don't mind people auditing the class...UNLESS you disrupt it in any way! Questions should only come from students who are actually in the class. Anyone who can't abide by these rules can leave now. So, if we understand each other let's get started. I know that Mr. Gordon over there is anxious to hear tonight's lecture,” he said, nodding in my direction.

Suddenly, I was again the center of attention, much to my personal horror. Kelsey gave me a puzzled look to which I shrugged, then settled in, my ears burning.

Pitcairn wrote the word shamanism on the board and began with a general definition.

“That great font of all wisdom, Wikipedia, tells us that shamanism is 'an anthropological term referencing a range of beliefs and practices regarding communication with the spiritual world.' Therefore, a shaman is someone who is a practitioner of these rituals.”

Turning back to the class he continued.

“Shamans are found on every inhabited continent on the planet and in almost every culture. Their role, while primarily a spiritual adviser or guide, also usually is that of a spiritual healer and sometimes a mediator.”

He went back to the board and started to write a list.

“These are some of the functions a shaman would fulfill. Coming of age ceremonies, helping others find their spirit animal, acting as a spiritual guide, presiding over death and burial ceremonies, passing on history and information through storytelling, driving away evil spirits, foretelling the future, communicate with spirits,” he said as he wrote.

“Sounds like my priest!” quipped a guy in the sixth row.

The class laughed and Pitcairn spun around with a smile. “Actually, Mr. Cring, these are all common tasks for religious leaders, be they rabbi, priest or medicine man. Although, I’m sure most priests would be quick to point out the differences.”

“Like what, Professor?” Cring, a skinny beanpole of a kid, asked.

“Shamanism is not an organized religion. Shamans usually undergo training, often for many years, but they are ultimately independent. Whereas, priests, ministers, rabbi, and imams are all part of an organization with a hierarchy and rigid rules,” Pitcairn said.

I raised my hand.

“Ah, Mr. Gordon, I’ve been expecting a question or six. What would you like to know?”

“You mentioned that shamans helped people find their spirit animal. How?” I asked

“You mean what methods do they use?” he asked. I nodded, ignoring the faces that flipped back and forth, watching us both.

“Well, I’m thinking you’re mainly interested in North American, First Nation ceremonies, is that correct?” he asked, then continued at my nod.

“Initial contact for a young man or woman would usually be part of their coming of age ceremony. Isolation and fasting were usually part of the process, either in a specific location or as part of a vision quest. The young person would be contacted by the animal spirit or totem during the fast.”

He went on to talk about other aspects of vision quests till I raised my hand again.

“Yes?”

“How did or do shamans help their people maintain contact with spirit animals?”

“There are regular ceremonies that they would conduct. Most common is a sweat lodge ceremony, but some groups used mind altering drugs to provide contact,” he said.

“That’s the shaman I want!” Cring declared. The class laughed. Professor Pitcairn looked at him quizzically.

“What? It seems pretty clear – hot and sweaty lodge or getting high? No contest!” Cring defended his position, again to more laughter.

“We’ll be going over sweat lodge ceremonies in much greater detail later, but the concept is fairly universal, even among the groups that use hallucinogens,” Pitcairn said, with the last directed at Cring. He looked my way. “Gordon, I’ve got a couple of good books on sweat lodge info I can lend you,” he said, rummaging in his briefcase. He pulled out a slender volume.

“Actually, here’s Bruchac’s ‘The Native American Sweatlodge: History and Legends’,” he said, tossing me the book.

“Thanks Professor,” I said, caught off guard by his gesture.

“No sweat!” he deadpanned. Most of the class groaned, but a few of the more smitten coeds giggled. Pitcairn shrugged off his own pun, then turned back to the lecture. I looked through the book while listening with one ear. My attention flicked back to him when I heard the word ‘Navajo’.

He was talking at this point about subsets of shamanism in North American tribes and the topic that tripped my switch was Navajo witches.

“The term ‘Witchery Way’ is used to describe a Navajo witch. These are individuals, usually male, but not always, who have chosen to take an evil path in their spiritual work,” he lectured.

“You’ve all heard the term ‘skinwalker’?” he asked, looking around the room. Most of the class was nodding. Pitcairn noticed my attention was now on him and he caught my eye for just a second as he continued to talk. “Skinwalker is a Native American concept, the gist of which is a person who can turn themselves into an animal by wearing the skin of that animal. The tradition is most developed among the Navajo and is part of the Witchery Way, along with another branch known as the Frenzy Way that was used by a witch to influence the minds and emotions of others,”

“Why?’ a girl in the front row asked.

“Excuse me?” Picairn asked.

“Why would they call it Frenzy Way when it only influenced an emotion or two?” she clarified.

“Have you ever seen video footage of a mob or riot?” he asked. She nodded.

“Heard of lynching or the Salem witch trials?” he asked. Again she nodded.

“And you still wonder how much power there is in influencing emotions and thoughts? My dear, the entire marketing and advertising industry is dedicated to influencing emotions and thoughts, not to mention a little branch of human endeavor called ‘politics’.”

“Oh! Got it!” she said, embarrassed.

“Think how much our political leaders would give to have the magical power to change their constituents’ minds for them,” he pointed out to the class.

“Are there still practicing Navajo witches?” I asked.

“Get real dude!” Cring answered me from the front, to more chuckles. He turned back to find Pitcairn staring holes in him.

“Mr. Cring? You an expert on Navajo or shamans? Maybe you would like to take the midterm today and skip the rest of the quarter?” he questioned the suddenly nervous student.

“No Professor, it’s just that this is all past stuff, right?” he asked.

“I never said that shamans don’t exist today. They very much do. In fact, some areas of the world are seeing resurgence in the practice and there are certainly modern practitioners of the Witchery Way, although you’re unlikely to find anyone to point them out to you.”

“Why?” Cring dared to ask.

“Because, Mr. Cring, their fellow tribe folk are much, much too afraid of them to I.D. them to strangers,” he replied.

“Have you met any Professor?” I asked. I knew from his biography in one of the books that he had done extensive research among western tribes, including the Apache and Navajo.

“I’m fairly certain that I have, Mr. Gordon, but we’ve strayed off track and,” he looked at the clock on the wall, “we’re running low on time.”

With that he went back into lecture mode, covering more on general shamanism. I stopped paying much attention, instead thinking of Mr. Nakai in Arizona and the rows of skull fetishes around his property.

Class ended a short time later and I packed up my bag, still thinking about both sweat lodges and Navajo witches. Lost in thought, it took a moment for me to realize that Kelsey and her friends were hanging nearby. I looked up at them.

“Wanna get some dinner?” Kelsey asked. She was obviously the little group’s spokesperson.

“What flavor?” I asked, because her question had triggered an awareness of my own hunger level.

They glanced at one another, then shrugged. “Indian?” Molly asked.

There were tons of East Indian restaurants nearby so I nodded.

“Gordon!” a voice said.

I looked up to see the Professor coming our way. “You doing anything for dinner?” he asked.

“Well the ladies just invited me to grab some Indian cuisine,” I answered, “Wanna join us?”

“Sure, if that’s alright with you ladies?” he checked.

Their smirks and giggles were answer enough.

Chapter 21

“How about Ajanta?” Pitcairn suggested.

I wasn't familiar with any of the local places, but the three girls agreed with his pick, so we headed down the stairs and out the front doors. The restaurant was a few blocks up Amsterdam Avenue which runs right next to Hamilton Hall. As we started up the sidewalk, I heard a familiar voice yell my name.

“Chris!”

We all turned to look and everyone froze in their tracks. The owner of the voice has that effect on people. “Hi Stacia,” I said to the stunning blonde leaning against a Lexus sedan. “I'll need to chat with her, I can meet you there?” I suggested to the professor and the girls, not knowing how long I would be.

“I think we can wait a minute or two,” Pitcairn said, without taking his eyes off Stacia.

I nodded and walked over to the Lexus.

Stacia Reynolds was in danger of creating a real traffic problem. About five feet six, she is one of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen. When I first met her she had only been wearing a pink thong, holding a flashlight and bleeding from a werewolf bite to her leg. She was wearing much more in the way of clothing but still drawing attention from every quarter. I noticed two large werewolves from the City Pack standing at either end of the parked Lexus. The one near the trunk was familiar to me and we nodded at each other. The were at the front of the car was new and it showed by the direct stare or rather glare he was directing my way. Most of the City's Pack knew better than that.

My attention swung back to Stacia, who was rocking a clingy, short gray knit dress with a wide black belt and black tights, with matching black boots. Platinum blonde hair framed a perfect elfin face with big emerald eyes and dentist-poster white teeth. She was beaming at me, obviously glad to see me.

I simultaneously felt the natural attraction that all things male would feel for her and a large measure of guilt. My guilt wasn't from noticing that she was beautiful, because as gorgeous as she is, she doesn't shine a candle to Tanya in my eye. My guilt was from the bite wound she had sustained just before I met her, which I should have prevented. Because I didn't, she was now a werewolf. My fault. But Stacia, rather than blaming me for her condition, felt a perverse gratitude to me for saving her life and bringing her into the New York Pack. She had gone from an uncertain life of poor means to a well paying career as the personal assistant to the female Alpha of the City. And she had been able to bring her widowed mother along on the trip to greater fortune.

“Wow! You look great, as always!” I said, “But what are you doing here?”

I knew it wasn't coincidental.

“Looking for you of course!” she said with an even bigger smile. I gave her a hug, got a kiss on the cheek and heard the young were by the front bumper growl.

I glanced his was and he was moving forward, his eyes locking on mine in obvious challenge.

Stacia had that effect on the single male weres of her Pack.

“You wanna curb your cub before things go downhill?” I said to Stacia without breaking eye contact.

In a flash of taut black clad legs she was over to him and smacking him in the chest. Since she was a werewolf, the blow had real impact. He straightened up, surprised.

“You fucking idiot! We're here to make sure he's okay, remember? Not challenge him to fight that he would win before you could clench your fist!” she hissed. “Your friggin' Alpha sent us to check on the Friend of the Pack! Honestly, if you want to make it in this Pack there’s some things you don’t do! Challenging him to a fight is one of them. ”

He rocked back and his snarling expression fell to a chagrined one, like a dog that had been whipped by its master.

She turned back to me, shrugging in apology. “Jeeze, I'm sorry Chris! What can I say? He's really new and doesn't know much.”

The young male looked to the other male for support but that one looked disgusted. Weres are all hot tempered, but especially the young ones.

“So Brock sent you to check on me? Why?”

“We heard you had some trouble, and all the Malleks want to be assured that you are okay,” she said, rolling her eyes at the word 'all'. That meant Brock, Afina, Brett and even, nine-year old Bryce, was interested in my health. I felt a momentary warmth at the Malleks' concern. I still wasn't used to having friends.

“Well, you can report back that I'm fine!” I said.

“You most certainly are fine!” she said with a wink. We chatted for a few minutes more, about her job, her mom and life in general, which she was loving. Then she glanced at the little group waiting for me and smiled. “Well, I'll let you get back to your friends, while Tony – “ she nodded at the older were, “ – and I get the pup back to headquarters.”

I smiled to myself at the term pup. She had only been a werewolf a few months herself. But nobody ever took to the life of a were as naturally as she had.

A hug and cheek kiss later and they took off. I rejoined the professor and girls.

“That your girlfriend?” Kelsey asked, her expression stiff.

“Stacia? No, no she's not my girlfriend,” I said. “Just a friend.”

“Well she must be a hell of a contender!” Professor Pitcairn said with a grin, earning him a look from each of the girls.

“What? No, I have a girlfriend,” I said, Tanya's image popping into my mind, “ and there are no other contenders!”

“Really? Well, she must be a hell of a girl?” he said, frankly curious.

Jamie, Molly and Kelsey all looked extremely curious as well.

“You have no idea, Professor, no idea at all!” was all I could think to say.

“She single then? Stacia is it?” the professor asked.

“Ya know, I don't honestly know,” I said. “She obviously has lots of contenders of her own.”

“That one that she hit wasn't her boyfriend?” Molly asked.

“Him? No way...too stupid. Stacia doesn't like stupid guys,” I said.

“I thought he was going to hit you!” Jamie said, glancing at me from the corner of her eyes.

“That's what I mean about stupid,” I said.

“Ohhh! Someone thinks he's a tough guy!” Kelsey said in a taunting tone.

I hadn't meant the comment as bragging, just honest truth, but I forgot my audience didn't know me.

I didn't respond, so she continued. “Honestly, Chris, that guy was really big and there was something vicious about him. You're in great shape...really great shape, but he was a lot bigger!”

I just smiled. “Oh, sure, he must outweigh me by forty pounds or so,” I agreed, not mentioning that his four footed form probably went over three hundred and fifty pounds.

Kelsey just looked at me quizzically, not understanding why I was agreeing with her.

“I think, Kelsey – “ Professor Pitcairn started, “ – that Chris means that size is only one aspect of toughness. Ability can be a deciding factor as well and unless I miss my guess, Chris's obvious fitness levels were created in a dojo or two. Eh, Chris?”

“Something like that, Professor, something like that,” I said, impressed that he had perceived my martial background, which maybe told me something about Pitcairn, himself. Time to change the subject though.

“Professor, , I know you've done a ton of research out West, but I'm wondering how much you know about Navajo witches?” I asked.

“Is this one of those areas of personal experience that Chet warned me about?” he asked back.

“Well, I've seen some....fetishes I guess, out West, that looked really nasty, and I wondered what their purpose was,” I said, telling the truth, just not all of it.

So, while the three girls listened intently, I described the skull and feather atrocities that ringed Nakai's property. On a hunch, I pulled out my notebook and tried to sketch one. I can't draw on my own, but I get visions that sorta draw themselves. They all have to do with the supernatural world and that's probably why I was able to draw three different skull fetishes. Pitcairn didn't say anything right away, instead studying the coyote, antelope and badger skull pictures while we walked.

Then he looked at me speculatively.

“These are really detailed drawings, especially for being done on the move,” he noted, his expression curious bordering on disbelief.

“I have an odd ability to sometimes draw certain things that I've seen. Can't always do it, but those horrors stuck in my head.

My description was apt, as the animal skulls in the drawings were wrong on some deep fundamental level. The bones looked twisted and deformed, like they had come from animals mutated by some bad sci-fi movie radiation experiment.

It wasn't just me, as all three girls faces reflected disgust.

“There were more of these?” Pitcairn asked.

“Lots. Ringing the property like posted signs,” I said.

“That's what they are. Posted signs with bite,” he said. “These were done by a high level practitioner, very high level.”

“You can tell the level of skill?” I questioned as we finally reached the restaurant. A hostess led us to an empty table for six in the back. Pitcairn waited to answer till we got seated.

“Yes, if your drawings are accurate, which I think they are, then the skill is evident.. See how the skulls appear distorted, grotesque?” he asked. All of us nodded.

“If actual measurements were taken with calipers, then I believe these skulls would be within normal parameters. But to your naked eye, they will always look...twisted.”

“You're saying Chris remembered them as distorted?” Kelsey asked.

“I'm saying that anyone who looked at them would see them as distorted. Close your eyes and feel them and they would be fine.”

“That sounds like illusion, Professor,” Kelsey said with a sharp note in her voice.

“It is,” he nodded, “just not one like David Copperfield would produce.”

“That would mean real magic, Professor?” Jamie questioned.

He didn't answer for a moment, just looked at each of the four of us.

“Maybe this is a bad time for a discussion like this,” he said, considering.

The waitress showed up and took our drink orders. The skies had just darkened when my phone buzzed and I got a text from Tanya.

How was class?

Fine

Whatcha doing now?

Grabbing dinner with the Professor and some students.

Girl students?

Yes

Pretty?

Stop! You know better!

Can't help it! Reflex! Enjoy dinner, Lyd and I going to Plasma to see how things are running.

Have fun dancing and no hot Darkkin!

All Darkkin are hot!

You know what I mean!

I know what you intend to mean, but the concept has no meaning for ME!

‘kay!

Where is dinner?

Ajanta on Amsterdam Ave.

See you later, rrrrightttt!

Of course!

I looked up to find Kelsey studying me. “Girlfriend?”

“Yup, she’s checking up on me,” I said.

“What did you tell her?” she asked in a conspiratorial tone.

“That I was having dinner with you three and the Professor,”

“Isn’t she the jealous type?” she asked.

“Oh definitely! But she’s cool with it,” I answered. “Plus she knows you all took the class just because the Professor was teaching it.”

Molly sputtered on her diet Coke, Jamie blushed and glanced at the Professor, who was reading his menu, and Kelsey just grinned at me and arched one eyebrow as if to say ‘good one!’

“Actually, I just transferred in from Cornell and didn’t know about the quality of the teacher until my roommates here told me the rumors,” she said back with a ‘so there’ tone.

Pitcairn looked up with a mildly pained expression and Kelsey laughed.

“Oh come on, Professor! You don’t honestly believe your course is so popular because of the quality of the curriculum, do you?” she challenged.

“I try to ignore it. We’ve gained quite a few new converts to the Religion department from that course. But why did you take it?” he asked.

“I’ve always been interested in mystic stuff, paranormal and spiritual,” she declared confidently.

It turned out Kelsey was a Psych major, just starting her Junior year. Molly was a Marketing major and Jamie was studying physics of all things.

“Physics? Honestly?” I questioned, taking in her peroxide hair and general cheerleader type appearance.

She laughed. “I’ve always been a geek, I just got tired of looking like one. It’s fun to mess with people’s stereotypes,” she said coyly.

The three were rooming together and had decided on Intro to Mysticism for an elective.

“I honestly think people’s beliefs and perceived experiences are enormously interesting,” Kelsey commented.

“Perceived experiences? Does that mean you don’t believe there are real experiences?” Pitcairn asked her.

“Oh come on! They wandered in the woods, half starved to death and suddenly had a vision of a moose spirit? Or they consumed vast quantities of peyote buttons and suddenly saw an angel?” she responded.

“So you’ve never had an experience that made you question things you couldn’t see, hear or touch?” he persisted.

“Professor, I’m a scientist, or at least on my way to being a scientist and a realist. If I can’t measure it, see it or detect it, it doesn’t exist!” she declared. Molly was nodding, but Jamie looked uncertain.

I turned to Jamie, the physics major. “Tell me, is an electron a particle or a wave?”

Her face screwed up in frustration. “It’s a particle, but sometimes acts like a wave,” she said.

“I see,” I said sardonically. “What about entangled particles? How can they exhibit identical behavior when separated by distance?”

She looked at me surprised. “We don’t know why entangled particles do what they do,” she admitted.

I turned back to Kelsey. “So the science of physics has trouble with a basic electron, let alone figuring out other particles and yet, you believe that humans, in their infinite wisdom, can know, absolutely know, that there is nothing to spirits, religion or supernatural?”

She didn’t answer for a moment, just looked at me with raised eyebrows. Then she turned to the other girls. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she announced. Molly and Jamie immediately stood up and left with her.

Pitcairn watched them walk away before speaking. “That was a little rough,” he noted.

I shrugged. “I don’t have patience with closed minds.”

“Listen, Chris, did you meet the man who made those fetishes?” he asked, changing subject completely.

I nodded. “Yeah, he was a mean old piece of work too.”

“You didn’t leave anything of yours with him did you?” he asked.

“Er..no. Why?” I asked.

“Navajo witches practice several forms of sympathetic magic. They obtain hair, blood, clothing, personal items from their target and use it to cast powerful curses. You’ll want to be careful if you ever see him again,” he cautioned.

I studied him for a moment, checking to see if he was serious. He was.

“Okay,” I said.

He grinned suddenly. “Just like that? No disbelief in magic?” he said.

I shrugged. “I just argued for the existence of the unknown. I’d be a pretty big hypocrite if I immediately blew off your advice.”

He took a sip of his beer, still studying me, then nodded. “I think, Mr. Gordon, that you and I need to talk sometime without anyone else around. I begin to see why Chet was interested in having us meet,” he said, then glanced behind me where my preternatural hearing told me the girls were headed back.

I concentrated on my menu as the girls returned to the table. I sensed some nervous glances my way from Molly and Jamie, while Kelsey ignored me, instead smiling at Pitcairn. That was okay, as my stomach was demanding I get busy with the ordering. The waitress returned and started taking orders, working first through the girls, then the professor and finally me. I ordered a spicy potato appetizer, and two entrees; one a chicken breast stuffed with spinach and cheese, the other – jumbo shrimp in a coconut sauce. Everyone was staring at me when I handed my menu to the waitress.

“What?”I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Two dinners? And an appetizer?” Molly asked.

“I have an active metabolism,” I said with a grin.

Pitcairn began questioning the girls, getting them to talk about themselves which kept the attention off either of us. I sat back and watched him expertly lead the conversation. In short order, we knew that Molly was from Pennsylvania, Jamie was New York City born and bred, and Kelsey was from the Washington, DC area originally. The food arrived and I got busy eating, still listening to the girls' responses to Pitcairn's skillful questioning. I was done with the chicken and halfway through the shrimp when Kelsey seemed to realize that they had been doing all the talking.

“Hey what about you guys? How about you Professor, are you a native New Yorker?”

“No, I hail from Michigan. Went to school in Texas and traveled the West. Got my Masters and PhD in Arizona. I came East about seven years ago.”

“Chris, what about you?” she asked. I took a drink of water to clear the spicy coconut sauce from my mouth and that's when the pain hit. It radiated from inside my skull like glassy shards of fire, burning and burning. I fought it back after a moment, realizing that it wasn't my pain, but Tanya's.

“Chris, Chris! What's the matter?” Kelsey asked in alarm. The other three were halfway out of their chairs, wearing varying expressions of surprise and shock. My right hand was wet, clenched around the broken remains of my water glass. Patrons at other tables were looking our way and the waitress and manager were headed to our table. The pain hit again, or rather my ability to block it let go and my vision faded in a burst of red agony. Once again I fought it back and when sight returned, I immediately saw the three vampires enter the restaurant and arrow toward me. They were at the table almost before anyone in the restaurant noticed them. Pitcairn became aware of them first and his rounded eyes and sudden scent of fear, made me think he recognized them for what they were. I recognized them as my three security shadows. The leader was slim and black, although he still managed to look pale.

“Mr. Gordon, there's been a problem with the Qu....with Tatiana! You are needed immediately!”

I was already moving, throwing two one-hundred dollar bills on the table. One of the vamps added more bills and I could hear him apologize to my tablemates and the staff, as the others led me to the door.

“The Queen was just attacked at Plasma. Arkady has a helicopter headed to pick you up on the top of one of the buildings outside.”

We were outside and he pointed at the tallest tower, which we headed toward at a speed which wouldn't look too abnormal. Around a corner, check for witnesses and then we were Cling-climbing up the side of the multistory structure. At rooftop, we stopped and he listened to the tiny flesh colored earpiece that I now noticed. “It'll be here in three minutes,” he stated, pointing to the Northeast where it would come from. I started to hear it's rotor thump almost immediately, but he was right on the mark as it took what felt like forever to get to our building. The dark blue Sikorsky S76 corporate copter was sleek and fast with its landing gear retracted. It was still thirty yards from the top of the building when I jumped to meet it, my Grim side too impatient to wait. The vampire pilot started at my heavy impact on the left nose of the big bird. I Clung there until the startled Darkkin inside could get the door open enough for me to slide inside. “Go!” I growled in Grim's voice. The pilot obeyed, leaving the three security vamps still on the roof of the building.

The flight took only minutes as measured by a watch, yet it was a lifetime when measured by Tanya's agony.

I lifted my head, sensing through my bond that we were close. A wave of pain hit again and my determination to make it stop reached new levels, the Tear of God around my neck flaring with heat and pressure. Part of me moved on its own, opening the door of the aircraft and jumping face first into the black night.

I didn't Lighten myself, instead, I Pulled toward the rooftop below, a rush of cold, moist air rushing past my face.

The Grim part of me that was coordinating this fall, shattered the rooftop with a blast of aura, while simultaneously forming a bubble of power just in front of my chest. That proved handy when I slammed to the dance floor and bounced off the bubble, landing on my feet.

I was almost overwhelmed by the images and scents that greeted my sudden appearance. The floor of Plasma was awash in blood, with several body parts littered at random, an arm here, a leg there. The only people in the club were vampires, crowded back from the center of the floor and back from Tanya who was backed into a corner. I recorded the scent of fear and anger, the stench of blood and bowels, the burnt smell of the skin I could see bubbling on my mate's face, her unmatchable eyes melted and ruined.

I ignored Lydia and Arkady at my back, as well as the rest of the vampires. It was good that the evening was too young for the club to be open to normals, part of me noted, while the rest of me approached my wounded girl cautiously.

She was wild with pain and rage, and while her eyes were gone and her sense of smell burnt out by the silver powder I could see glittering on her skin, she still heard me and sensed me.

She swung her arms in a blurring attack, maddened beyond reason by her pain. But she had trained me well, and I blocked her blows one, two and three before I was close enough to wrap her in my arms and thrust my right wrist into her mouth. A wounded vampire is a bundle of pure instinct and hers told her to bite down on the warm skin suddenly under her teeth. She froze in place, the steady gulping of her throat the only motion as my abnormally potent blood poured into her mouth.

Lydia was suddenly behind me, and I held out my left wrist without looking.

“Slash it!” my Grim roughened voice commanded her.

A vampires fingernails are like razor blades and Lydia didn't hesitate for a moment in granting my wish.

I held my spurting left wrist over Tanya's ruined face, letting the hot, healing blood wash her burned face and eyes. Lydia grabbed my left hand and guided the flow over every burned part of her sister's face. I'm not allergic to silver and my blood is rich in silver-resistant virus, along with the mélange of vampire proteins that allow supernaturally fast healing.

The burning ceased immediately and I could feel Tanya's body starting to heal. Suddenly, she let go of my wrist and coughed, then choked, air wheezing out of her silver burnt lungs. I grabbed her face and covered her mouth with my own, ripping my tongue across her razor teeth and breathing a mist of my blood deep into her argent-fried lungs. Vampires do, in fact, breathe. They just don't need to do it often and can go long periods without air. Her time had run out, but my bloody breath was healing her lungs almost instantly. A moment or two and she was able to resume drinking from my wrist.

“What the fuck happened?” I demanded, Tanya now somewhat stabilized.

Arkady answered. “I failed my Queen!” he began. “ A visiting Darkkin asked to approach her. I didn't check him for silver, judging him too young and weak to harm her. He must have been wearing silicon gloves, because he threw two fistfuls of silver dust in her face. She tore him apart almost instantly, but we couldn't get near her. She fought off every attempt to get near her.”

His report seemed matter-of-fact, yet his admission of failure told me that two vampires were in critical shape, although only one's wounds were visible.

“Arkady, you WILL immediately begin an investigation, and under no, I repeat NO circumstances are you to take any action against yourself until Tanya decides your fate. YOU WILL NOT LEAVE HER WITHOUT A SECURITY CHIEF UNTIL SHE SAYS SO!” I was damn near shouting at the last, which made everyone flinch except the giant vampire and Tanya, who was too focused on feeding to notice an earthquake.

“Am I understood?” I asked. He nodded briskly. I hadn't been one to give orders to Tanya's vampires before, but I didn't hesitate now. There would NOT be a vacuum of power while she was wounded.

The Tear of God around my neck pulsed with power, reflecting my determination to heal her. My left wrist had already healed, so I used it to pull the silver linked chain off my neck and put it around Tanya's. It should have burned her, being made from a pure silver cross, but I knew it wouldn't. I usually forgot I was wearing it, even naked of all other clothes and jewlery. Tanya had brushed up against it with almost every part of her own naked self and it had never even caused a rash. I didn't doubt for a moment that this was because of the black baby-fist sized God Tear in the center of the chain's setting was somehow adjusting the necklace, making it safe for her. Now it hung on her neck and I could feel the gem lending power to my soul's other half, helping her heal the horrendous wounds.

The necklace may have also helped calm her down, as she abruptly stopped drinking from my wrist and tucked her head against my chest.

“Doctor Singh will be here in minutes,” Lydia said quietly from my side. I nodded, then felt the beginnings of a vision coming on. Not a future vision, but a crime scene type.

“Lydia, grab me a pencil and paper would you?” I asked.

She flickered away and back, holding a clipboard with a pencil tied on. The front was an order form for liquor, but she flipped it over and held it out one handed. Lydia is tiny and petit, but she’s also vampire. The clipboard was rock solid, as if on an artist’s easel. My hand started sketching of its own accord.

Arkady and Lia, the manager, moved up to watch the drawing unfold. Tanya settled against me, the Tear of God pulsing gently between us.

Three pictures appeared, blocked out from left to right. The first showed a young vampire of Hispanic background standing on the edge of the VIP area talking to Arkady. Lydia, Lia and Tanya where at a table, looking at reports. The next showed him moved up to the table, the three women looking at him expectantly. The third showed him thrust both hands forward, glittering powder clouding Tanya’s face. Her hands were wrapped around his wrists, stopping their forward motion, but not that of the powdered silver.

My hand stopped drawing and we all just studied the pictures for a moment.

“Any idea who he is?” I asked.

“He’s from a coven in Mexico!” a voice said from behind Arkady. Connor the young security Darkkin I had met outside Tanya’s reception room was looking past his boss’s back, staring at the picture.

“I think his last name was Alverez, but I’m not sure. I do know he told me he was from just over the border from Arizona” he added.

I exchanged a look with Arkady, who nodded briskly. He was on it. A flurry of motion at the back entrance announced the arrival of Doctor Singh. In the blink of an eye, he was examining Tanya as I held her steady.

Chapter 22

Tanya seemed either shocky or maybe just in a self-imposed state of withdrawal. I asked the doctor about it.

“That's normal for a vampire who has been severely injured but feels safe. It helps redirect energy to the healing process. Now let me examine her, but don't go anywhere!” he ordered brusquely.

He was able to get Tanya to stand and face him while he held her hands and looked her over. She was covered in blood, mine and the attacker's, and her beautiful face was a mess. I stood back a bit and turned to survey the room. Security vamps were bagging the attacker's remains, searching for additional evidence as they went. Another group had begun to clean the mess from the dance floor and surrounding tables.

Lydia was giving orders and Arkady was talking with his men who had formed a protective circle around our little group.

“Well, she's been majorly injured by the silver dust. She must have breathed it in, so it not only damaged her face and eyes but also her lungs,” Doctor Singh stated. I looked at him expectantly.

“She's healing, though, at an enormous rate. In fact, this is faster than I've ever seen. You did exactly the right things at the right times. What by the way is this silver doing around her neck and why isn't it burning her?” he asked.

“That's my necklace Doc, the Tear, and it's helping her to heal,” I said. I could almost feel the vampires around us listening as they worked.

“But why isn't it burning her? I can't even touch it!” he stated.

“It, ah...knows her,” I said with a shrug. I didn't understand it either.

“It knows her? Like it's sentient or something?” he asked, incredulous.

“I don't know, Doc. But it's never burned her before, all the times we were...you know...touching and stuff. I just got the impression it could help her, a feeling you could say.”

He nodded, still studying her.

“Doc, want I should get her cleaned up?” Lydia asked. He shook his head.

“Let's leave her alone for the moment. Chris's blood is the best dressing we could put on her and I don't want to wash it off,” he said.

I started to move to Arkady, but Tanya's blood covered face swiveled to track me. I stopped and stayed near her, my brain thinking about the attack on her as well as the one on me and Toni.

***

Thirty minutes later found us deep in Citadel, the tunnel fortress on lockdown. Tanya was resting in our quarters, having taken a second dose of blood. Doctor Singh was staying near her, but he had said that she was essentially healing on her own. He felt positive she would even regrow her damaged eyes, given some time.

I was sitting in the Reception room, listening to Galina and Lydia as they talked through all of the decisions that Tanya would have been making if she had been healthy. Swigging Gatorade and sipping chicken soup to help replenish the lost blood, I was only listening with half an ear, most of my thoughts being on the second attack on Tanya by a Central American vampire as well as the coincidence that both her attack and mine used toxic dust. The fact that Loki's Spawn originated south of the border was also on my mind. That's why it took a second for the third voice to make it through my brain.

“My dear Galina, it is only natural for me to take over for my niece. I am after all your elder brother and hold the most shares!” Illarion said. I hadn't paid attention to the constantly shifting group of Darkkin that were coming and going in the great room. Now I noticed that the crowd had swelled and was carefully watching Illarion present a case for taking over the City coven. My Grim side surged up inside me, instantly enraged.

“Hold!” I said, breaking into the argument. “What's this about?”

“It doesn't concern you, human!” Illarion said snidely.

“Chris, with Tanya down temporarily, someone needs to run things,” Galina explained.

“Yeah, that's what you and Lydia are doing,” I stated.

“But I am the senior Darkkin present!” declared Illarion.

“Actually, as far as age goes, Arkady has you all beat!” I pointed out.

“He's Security, they don't count for executive leadership!” Illarion waved dismissively.

“Yeah, well, I don't really care about your age, Illarion, Senka put Tanya in charge, and Galina was in charge before. So it's only proper that she handle things for the time being.”

“Listen, Chosen, you aren't vampire, so your thoughts don't matter!” he replied crossly.

Lydia was looking at me in a meaningful manner and when she caught my eye she mouthed 'Queen's Chosen'.

“I'm not vampire, but I am a part of this Coven, and as you just pointed out, I'm the Queen's Chosen,” I said.

“Queen's Chosen? Whose Queen? Not mine!” he said, then waved at his security guy. “Seth, please remove the Chosen!”

The ice cold Seth started to pull a short sword from a sheath on his back, probably to make a point of his authority. I don't know and no one will ever know, because six rounds of .44 magnum erupted so close together it sounded like one long shot.

Seth was hit once in the pelvis, twice in the chest, once in the throat and two last times in the head. All the rounds were loaded with silver particles inside hollow copper bullets. They were tremendously effective. He fell to the ground, a shredded mess, his ruined head hanging from fleshy threads.

I reloaded my dad's gun and put it back into the hidden vest pocket, then walked over to Seth's twitching form, holding my hand out to Arkady for a knife as I went by. He didn't hesitate to slap the handle of a twelve-inch Ghurka kukri in my hand, while signaling his guys with his free hand.

Illarion was aghast, frozen in place as I hacked off his minion's head.

“Now, what were you saying about the Queen and my right to stand up for her?” I asked looking him in the eye. His remaining bodyguards were all being held at weapon point by Arkady's men.

“This is...is...an outrage. This is unforgivable!” he started to sputter, but I moved, faster than he could react to and was suddenly in his face, the kukri held loosely in my hand.

“I don't know as much as you about coven rules, but I was well trained in the rights of a Chosen!” I said with a nod in Lydia's direction. She had been adamant about me learning what I could do as Tanya's Chosen. “It seems to be pretty clear that I have the right to protect and stand up for Tanya in any circumstance, whether she's awake or asleep, competent or incapacitated. Please note, dear uncle Illarion, that I have just officially protested your attempt at taking over her position. You are welcome to challenge me on it of course,” I said.

You could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he worked through his options. He scanned the room and I did as well. The place was packed with coven members and they all looked at him like he was dogshit, faces openly hostile. His gaze alighted on his three witches where they stood by the back wall. “Do it and I'll crush them like house flies, “ I said, reading his intent. For their part, the witches , who ranged from mid-twenties to middle fifties in age, all looked terrified. He turned back to me, then recoiled a bit from whatever he saw in my expression. “I will be discussing this with Senka!” was all he could come up with. “How come I have the feeling you wouldn't allow me to do that if the tables were switched?” I asked, archly. Connor and another vamp appeared behind him and at my nod, grabbed his arms and removed him from the room. They weren't very gentle about it.

The vampires in the room all looked to me after the big doors closed on Illarion. I’m not one for public speaking but I needed to say something.

“If anyone has a problem with Tanya’s convalescence and these two –“ I pointed at Galina and Lydia, “ – handling things then speak now!”

Nobody moved, not even a millimeter. “I guess that’s a no then,” I said then nodded to Tanya’s mother and de facto sister to take over. It was like the play button on the DVD player had been hit, all motion restarted at once. I looked over the crowd, most of whom were still watching me and spotted three faces I was interested in. Darkkin slid away from my advance clearing a path straight to Illarion’s three human witches. Two older, one younger, they all had the same dark haired appearance. Probably two sisters and a daughter was my best guess. They watched me with wary expressions, one of the older two flinching slightly as I moved up in front of them.

“I would like to talk to you for a moment,” I said, wondering if any of them spoke English. The young one spoke to the two older ones, perhaps translating what I said.

“What would you ask of us?” she said after conferring a second with her elders.

Up close I decided that the two middle aged witches were definitely sisters, one of whom stared at me defiantly while the other appeared fearful.

“I need to know about witches and witchcraft. Please, have a seat over here, it’ll just take a moment,” I said, pointing to some benches along the wall. The brave one spoke at length to the girl witch who then looked my way and spoke.

“My mother asks again ‘what could we tell you?’”

“A lot! I know nothing about witchcraft or what you do,” I explained.

All three look incredulous as the daughter repeated my words in Russian.

“First of all my name is Chris,” I said.

“I am Anna,” the girl said. “My mother is Alena and my aunt is Masha.”

That generated my first question.

“Does witchcraft run in families?” I asked.

Anna nodded even as she translated. Her mother, Alena spoke at length, ending with a question.

“Witches are born, not made. It usually travels from mother to daughter, although sometimes boys inherit the gift. Mothers and grandmothers teach the young, as untrained witches are a danger to all. My mother wonders how you do not know all this, and asks just what you are?”

I felt myself smile.

“No one is really quite sure what I am, but I’m not a witch,” I said.

Anna translated and they all looked at me like I was crazy. Masha spoke up and her niece asked her a question, then spoke to me.

“Aunt Masha wonders how you wield so much of the Power without spells?”

I looked at Masha and shrugged. “Listen, Anna, I don’t even really know what spells are? I just do what I do,”

Anna repeated my words in Russian, then spoke in a lecture voice, obviously quoting from memory.

“Spells are the way we manage magic. They form the patterns that allow someone of talent to take all the small important steps needed to tug and push the power into doing what we want,” she explained.

“So spells are words?” I asked.

“Actually, they can take almost any form – from spoken word to drawing of runes to song to objects of power.”

“How do you know what to use and when?”

“We use primarily spoken spells, but sometimes we use focus objects or personal items to connect to the object of our attention,” she said.

“Wait, personal items like hair or nail clippings? That’s sympathetic magic right?” I asked, remembering Pitcairn’s words.

“Sympathetic….hmmm….yes that is the right word for it. Something that connects to a person or a thing. A sliver of wood from the deck of a ship would help me find it from far away. A hair from your head would let me track you across the city,” she said.

“Or cast a curse on me?” I asked.

“Theoretically,” she agreed with a thin smile.

I cocked my head to one side and raised my eyebrows enough that she went on.

“Casting spells against people is complex magic and if done wrong it can backfire on the caster. When you broke our cover spell on the Queen it came back to all three of us.”

“Yeah, about that….. why where all three of you covering her?” I asked.

She grimaced and before she could answer her mother interrupted, impatient to find out what we were talking about. She explained in Russian, then Alena spoke to her while looking at me.

“My mother says that the Queen was very difficult to mask. Something on her or about her was very resistant to our power,” Anna said, looking at me quizzically. I had a pretty good idea what that was, but I wasn’t about to tell them of the arrowhead necklace that Tanya wore regularly.

Alena spoke again. “Mother also wonders how you manipulate power if not through spells?”

“I just think what I want and generally it happens,” I answered.

She looked at me like I was lying even as she translated.

“Listen, I would like to talk to you three more at another time if I may?” I asked.

“That will depend on our Lord Illarion,” Anna said, which meant not very likely. I thanked them and moved off, thinking to check on Tanya. Galina and Lydia were back in full swing, solving issues and problems for the swarm of vampires that had filled the room. The room was fairly crowded now, but a path instantly formed for me as I walked toward the door. I was just about out when a really striking voice spoke to me from the corner of the room.

“Chosen, may we speak with you?”

I turned and took in the three Darkkin that huddled there. Vampires don’t generally huddle, but low ranking members of the Coven are careful to present submissive body language to higher ranked or more powerful vamps. The three facing me definitely showed submission, yet the voice of the speaker was firm and determined, as well as beautifully toned. She was, I decided, about a hundred and twenty years old and must have been very attractive when newly turned. But the poorly healed scars that covered her face and neck spoke of either silver burns or fire, neither of which heal well for vampires. The male with her was missing his left arm from the elbow down and the other female moved on a crippled leg.

Tanya had told me that vampires could survive enormous damage, but depending on the wound and the amount and quality of the blood the vamp received after the wound, didn’t always heal fully. Personal attractiveness is highly valued by Darkkin society. It’s right up there with strength and power. These vampires were damaged and their body language showed their position on the social ladder.

Vampires around me had stopped to observe the exchange, which made the three even more defensive. Something about their appearance was tickling my memory. I hadn’t met any of them before, but the identical gray jumpsuits and the maimed condition was familiar.

“We just wish to ask after the Queen’s condition. Is..is she going to recover fully?” the spokes woman asked.

I held out my hand. “I’m Chris,” I said, forcing an introduction.

“I’m Alex,” the leader said shaking my offered hand. “This is Dave and Leet,” she said introducing the male and female. I shook their hands and spoke while I did so.

“Tanya will definitely recover. The doctor says her eyes will regrow and heal, we’re just not sure how fast.”

“Will…will she be ..you know …fully healed?” Alex asked. I tilted my head, considering her question which I thought I had just answered. Then it struck home.

“You’re asking about scarring?” I asked.

They nodded.

“I don’t know, no one knows.” That was the truthful answer.

“If she is scarred will you… will you…” her voice trailed off in discomfort. Or maybe it was the look on my face as I made the mental leap and figured out her question.

“Leave her?” I asked, but it was Grim’s voice speaking. The entire room went dead still.

“She is MINE! I am hers! Nothing changes that, EVER!” I said, furious.

They were pressed as far back against the wall as they could go, faces reflecting terror. Alex held her hands up in front of her. “We meant no offense, it’s just that we know you are not vampire and we didn’t….know…” she trailed off.

A whiff of odor struck my nose and somehow penetrated the fog of anger. Very, very faint. The slightest scent of sewer. Then I understood, almost completely. They were very clean, fresh scrubbed, but just a hint had remained.

“You’re from Outside! Outside of Citadel!” I stated, my voice back to normal.

The three nodded in unison. “We are Outsiders,” Alex confirmed, using the common name for the vampires who lived in the sewers instead of the Coven’s fortress headquarters. Tanya had told me at great length about them. The dregs of vampire society, they had retreated to the massive New York sewer system long before Citadel was even planned. Not willing to endure the harsh stares of perfect, inhumanly beautiful Darkkin, they had their own society and structure. Tanya had, as a silent child and teen, sought the dark of the sewers and had often visited with the outcasts.

“Tanya told me all about you. Except she doesn’t like the name Outsiders. She calls you the Outer Guard, her Outer Guard. She says that anyone attacking Citadel would choose the sewers, but they would find you there and it would go bad for the invaders,” I explained, my anger gone.

The three sewer vamps were wide eyed at my words.

“She said that? Truly?” Alex asked.

“Oh yeah, most definitely. And she really, really dislikes you being called Outsiders. Makes her kinda mad. Says you do as much to keep her and us safe as anyone,” I said, remembering her explanation of why she was sending blood supplies and money out into the sewers.

“Listen, Alex, Dave and Leet. I’ll tell her you were very concerned about her. Maybe she’ll want to visit in a day or so. I’m not sure how long the doctor and I can keep her resting, but that would be a good field trip for her,” I said, thinking it odd that a trip to the sewers would be good for a healing patient. But she couldn’t catch any diseases, the V-squared was way too jealous of its hosts to allow other contagions. And the sewers would be safer than the streets above.

“You really think so?” she asked, her face in awe at the prospect. Apparently, Tanya had even more supporters than she knew.

“Yup, I do. Now I have to go, I want to make sure she’s fed,” I said holding up my wrist. Every vamp in the surrounding area looked at my wrist and I could swear they all had to bite down to keep from licking their lips. But as tempting as I smell, my recent demonstration helped their restraint.

Chapter 23

I swung by Chet's lair to see if he had any new information. My personal shadows had grown to five, two out in front and three behind. This group were all security vamps that I had met over the last year with the two new additions being a couple of the largest in Arkady's squad. They didn't speak to me or get too close, just ranged ahead and behind keeping an eye on everyone and everything near me. I didn't really like it but I wasn't sure what to do about it. There was also the fact that they kept the regular Darkkin away. It seems I had become rather popular with many of the vamps in Citadel with Darkkin wanting to be near me. Sorta like a pop star's fans except these fans had two inch teeth and a scary, focused expression on their faces. The ones that turned from me in disgust were worth noting as potential Tanya haters.

I found Chet immersed in his ring of computers, conferring with another human technician whom I had seen around but never met.

“Dude, tell me you've cracked the mysteries of the ages...or at least the people who are attacking us?” I asked.

He gave me a hurt look. “You doubt for a moment my abilities – you – my brother from an upstate mother?” he shot back.

“What have you got, wiseass?” I asked, nodding at the girl seated next to him, whose eyes had bugged out when I walked up behind them.

“Oh Chris, this is Telzey! Telzey – Chris!” he introduced us. Telzey was tiny, dark haired, with black rimmed glasses, a slightly plump frame and the sharpest hazel eyes I had seen in a while. You could just about count the stacks of IQ points behind them. She nodded, then glanced behind me at the security shadows.

“Okay, here's the dump! I scanned in that drawing you did and got a face recognition hit on the Coven database. Dude was one Juan Alverez, Mexican coven from near Ensenada. That is also the area your old pal Reyes came from,” Chet said.

Desiderio Reyes had been a visiting Darkkin who was a Bender, that is a vampire with the ability to force others to do as he desired. He had forced himself on Tanya and I had interrupted which allowed her to get free. But I hadn't known what he was and had mistaken her mind-bent state as willing participation in the sordid little scene. That was not one of my finer moments and the memory still hurt.

“That also places him near where we've pinpointed the center of Loki activity,” Chet continued, not noticing my reaction to Reyes name. His friend Telzey had though, her eyes even bigger if possible.

“Any travel information?” I asked, my teeth slightly clenched.

“Well, Darkkin slide through the borders like they don't exist, but I did find a couple of unsolved murders on the federal law enforcement system near Phoenix. Car belonging to one of the victims turned up in Arkansas, so that gives us an idea of his path. Typical.”

I was learning that many vampires still killed humans pretty much at will, especially the vampires from poorer countries. The thought had occurred to me that I had been shielded from the more feral vamps by my association with the upper echelon of the Coven.

“So it looks like the Central American covens may not be fans,” Chet continued. “On a side note, I got some hits on the DOD web about your attackers. Lots of search activity going on, mostly from Creek's people. They've found a series of murders that look like someone's covering tracks. Two biologists and a DARPA employee. All look like accidents or robberies, but there must be more to them or your Homeland Security buddies wouldn't be interested. They're also searching the military's records for all recent reports of troops killed in action and back checking the validity. Apparently, the ones that attacked you had pretty tight records of death, but there appears to be a few weak spots that Creek's people could use to spot more of these people,” he said. Then he spun to face me.

“One other thing,” he began, “Duclair has dropped out of sight. I can't find her anywhere. Last known assignment was when she was transferred by Creek to the DHS field office near Nome, Alaska. But I don't see where she ever arrived.”

“How'd you spot that?” I asked.

“Actually, Creek initiated a search for her, himself. I happened on it while checking out this stuff,” he said.

That was pretty interesting and I wasn't sure if Agent Briana Duclair was connected to this black ops group or not, but it didn't seem like her to just fade away.

“Thanks, Chet,” I said, with a gentle back smack.

“Hey, Telzey found a lot of it, you should be thanking her!” he said.

“Thanks Telzey! Really! Keep it up you two,” I said.

“Hey how's Tanya?” Chet asked.

“She's doing pretty well, but I'm going to check on her now,” I said.

***

I found Dr. Singh packing up his medical gear when I entered the suite.

“She's resting and I just changed her eye dressings,” he said before I could ask. He was capping a small vial of my blood that he used to soak her new eye bandages before applying them. Kinda ass-backwards from human dressings that you changed when they got too bloody.

I settled onto a lounge with another bottle of Gatorade and my thoughts, trying to process everything I had learned.

A moment later Tanya appeared silently in the doorway from our room, wearing one of my tee shirts and not much else, her eyes wrapped in gauze. Despite the covered eyes she unerringly wound her way to me and curled up on my lap, her head on my chest, then promptly fell fast asleep. The God's Tear necklace warmed slightly where it lay between us and I could just about feel the gem pushing power into her. For the first time all day I felt sort of at peace. Not fully, because my head was spinning with information from Chet, from the witches and from the Outer Guard. I fell asleep that way.

I awoke sometime in the late morning, still covered in sleeping vampire. My dreams had been many, wild and filled with images of witches, weres and magically cursed vampires. I had an immediate need to talk to the witches and an even more urgent need to hit the urinal. Tanya had snuggled up just right to pressure my bladder to explosion point. Carrying my sun-tranqed girlfriend into the bedroom, I tucked her in for the day and then hit the facilities. A shower gave me time to think, then I left the suite, immediately coming face to face with a very tired Arkady and a chipper looking Mr. Deckert, who handled daytime security and was fully human.

“Either of you know where Illarion's witches are?” I asked.

Arkady didn't respond immediately, looking slightly catatonic, but Deckert spoke without hesitation.

“The two older ones are still in the guest quarters they were assigned, but the young one is in the Broadway cafeteria according to my guy watching her.”

“Ask him to keep her there for a minute or two. I have some questions to ask her.”

He raised his eyebrows but just spoke into his throat mike without comment. Arkady managed a nod then I was gone at a jog.

Broadway cafeteria is just named after the surface street, it's not actually under Broadway. Citadel's center complex has several cafeterias for humans, spread around its sprawl. In a way it reminds me of a really big hospital, at least the central complex does, with elevators and corridors every which way. As you might have surmised the names of various parts all come from the city above. The lighting is lower than a hospital, and of course the outlying parts seem more military complex if not outright miners tunnels. It's very complex and takes a while to get the hang of navigating, which is intentional in case it ever gets invaded. But if it's one thing I remember, it's how to find the food. I arrived in a minute and twenty seconds by my internal clock and immediately spotted Anna sitting alone at a table, with one of Deckert's men nearby. I took the time to whip through the food line, gathering two trays of scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, juice, coffee, toast and a cheese danish.

I slid into place in front of Anna who was nursing a cup of tea (green by the smell) with honey. She jumped a little as I rattled my trays into place, her startled expression giving way to disbelief as she eyed the amount of food I had.

“Hey, good morning!” I said.

She just watched me warily, sipping her tea.

“I have some more questions for you, if you will,” I stated, my tone not really leaving room to disagree. She tried anyway. Silly witch!

“My Lord has made it clear that we are not to speak to you,” she said with a worried tone.

“Let's just call it table chat, shall we? Surely Illarion hasn't directed you to be rude has he?” I asked.

She shook her head as she thought about it, but still looked alarmed.

“Just a couple of quick things, who knows, it might save your Lord's life,” I said. In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have couched it that way, as I was thinking the answers would benefit the entire Coven. Her wide eyes and furrowed brow led me to believe she thought it was a threat on his life.

Either way she nodded hurriedly, so I pressed onward.

“Okay, first, does sympathetic magic work on vampires?” I asked.

“Yes, of course!” she said.

“Second, if a witch and a were had a baby, could it be both witch and were?” I asked.

Shock, revulsion, then curiosity all flashed across her face.

“I, I don't know...,” she admitted. “I've never heard of it before. Weres and witches don't usually get along. We've usually allied with vampires.”

“Do you think it's possible?” I asked.

“Maybe...I'm not really sure. It's possible that my mother or aunt would know, but they won't talk to you and they don't speak English.”

“Do you think you could ask them? It might be really important.” I asked.

She looked balky at the idea so I added a thought.

“If a were that was a witch got hold of a vampire's nail clipping, what could they do?” I asked, hypothetically.

Her eyes got really wide and I could almost see the part where she re-evaluated my statement about a threat against her 'Lord”.

“I will see what I can do. I must go now before anyone comes looking for me,” she said, then left, taking her tea cup with her. It occurred to me a moment later that a witch was probably very careful about leaving anything personal behind, even if it was just saliva on the lip of a paper cup.

I continued to eat breakfast, but on my second trip through the line I grabbed the cordless phone from the wall and placed a call through Citadel’s secure system.

“Hello?” was the puzzled greeting I got. Chet’s systems insured that Citadel’s phone came up on caller ID as something different.

“Hey Gramps! How’s things?” I asked.

“Boy, I never know what name you’re gonna call under next!” he said.

“What’s it this time?”

“Sal’s meat market,” he replied, his exasperated tone hiding a chuckle.

“How’re you doing? How’s Len? How’s Semp and Sherm?”

“Me? I’m old and mean. Len’s older and meaner – “ I heard Len in the background making an anatomically improbable suggestion to Gramps – “The dogs are good.”

“Did I hear there was some sorta problem up there?” I asked, not mentioning the mauling directly. Gramp’s cell was a Chet special, but the budget of the people who routinely watched the farm and every other aspect of my life was immense. Our conversation was almost certainly unsecure.

“Yup, a spot,” he admitted. “Remember Shane Gotting?”

“Yeah.”

“Dumb fool got himself killed by a pack of feral dogs!”

“No shit?”

“We got most all of them, cept the leader. Big bastard got away, but we’re still looking,” he explained.

So the local drunken poacher got mauled and feral dogs were being blamed. The big one was likely the werewolf that actually killed him. I was now really concerned.

“Gramps you be careful. Keep the dogs close and keep armed. I’ll be up,” I said, my mind whirling with the steps I needed to take.

“Aw! We’re fine. The renters helped us track down the dog pack and did pretty good for a bunch of city kids. They tracked the big one off the edge of the property and feel it’ll just keep going,” he said, his voice relaxed and confident.

“Really? That group of city slickers actually helped?” I asked.

“That friend of yours, Brett, he did really good. He’s the one that feels that big dog won’t be back. Probably went back across the border to Canada where it came from!”

If I was reading this right, then Gramps emphasis on the word ‘back’ meant that Brett had killed the were that caused the trouble and that one had come from Canada, maybe drawn to the new pack on the border. Pack law, at least the law of the pack I knew, stated that any were that killed humans would be hunted down and executed for putting the whole Pack at risk. Humans and technology were too big a threat to ignore.

The guys that cleaned up after me, Creek’s guys, were more than capable of handling weres. Of course, if they did attack a pack of weres there would be very high casualties among the highly trained soldiers, something that Creek could avoid by sending me in alone. Brett’s action was solid and timely, making me proud of my friend and his fledgling pack.

“You’re sure everything’s okay?” I asked.

“Yup, we got it handled!” was the confident reply. We talked for awhile about things on the farm, about the were’s pemmican business (Gramps had gotten a local bison rancher to sell the business meat at a reasonable price), he asked about Tanya and Lydia (I explained one made life heaven the other hell – he laughed). Finally he asked me how I was doing and the undertones in his question told me he was really asking about the Loki hunting, demon banishing, vampire city living, federal spook avoiding totality that had become my life. “Life is….interesting,” I allowed.

“Just like the Chinese curse, huh?” he asked.

“May you live in interesting times,” I quoted. “ Dad used to say that one a lot. It definitely fits. Hey, I’m back in school…taking a class at Columbia,” I said.

“How’s that going?” he asked.

“Interesting,” I said.

Chapter 24

It was close to three-thirty in the afternoon when I got back to the suite. I spent the day above ground in Manhattan, running some errands and doing a little old fashioned research at the public library.

I found Tanya awake which wasn’t too unusual, but also Lydia and Galina, which was. The sun had not yet set above ground, although it was pretty low on the horizon. Daylight starts to fade pretty fast in September.

“Hey how are you feeling?” I asked. She was sitting in a rocking papasan chair, her bare legs curled under her, the bright white bandages across her eyes a sign the doctor had been there. It looked like he’d stopped the blood soaked bandage treatment, which I took to be a good sign.

“Trapped! I feel trapped!” she said, her frustration evident in every word.

“Whoa! Sounds like you’re doing better!” I said.

“Tell us about it!” a sleepy Lydia said from the easy chair she was sprawled in.

“What’s Doc Singh say?” I asked.

“He says she’s doing incredibly well, considering the damage,” his voice said from the side room. He moved fully into sight, closing his medic bag as he did.

“How are her eyes?” I asked, keeping my voice even.

He shook his head. “Ridiculous! Almost fully regrown, but not yet fully functional, so they have to stay under wraps for a day or so.”

“She already repaired all the damage/” I asked, remembering the ruin of her face.

“Most of it. I’ve never seen anything heal as quick as she did,” he said, looking me full on. “I don’t know if it was just your blood applied immediately or that strange necklace of yours or a combination, but it is what it is,”

“Doctor, I want to get out of this apartment!” she said, her voice carrying a note of command. Yup, definitely feeling better.

“Tanya, I would prefer it if you stuck to below ground for a while, the darker the better,” he said.

“Hey, that reminds me Tanya, some vamps from Outside were asking about you. An Alex, a Dave and a Leet, whatever that is,” I said.

“They’re part of the Outer Guard. They asked about me?”

“Yeah extremely concerned,” I said. Lydia was eyeing my head with narrowed eyes.

“I could visit them in the sewers! How about that Doctor?” she asked, more excited about sewers than anyone should ever be.

“That would be fine, Tanya, just take Chris with you okay?” he said, looking my way. I nodded affirmative and he headed out.

“You got a haircut!” Lydia suddenly accused.

“A haircut? I want to see!” Tanya said, frustrated again. I walked over and sat on the edge of the papasan and put her hands on my head so she could feel the short bristly hair.

“Yeah, I was doing some errands up top and thought I’d get it cleaned up,” I admitted.

“You wanted to change your appearance!” Tanya said, reading my intent.

“Yeah, maybe that too,” I said.

Both Lydia and Galina snorted in derision. “That will not do much Chris,” Galina said, with a smirk.

“It’s a start,” I replied, slightly stung.

“No, it’s not even the beginning of a start!” Lydia said. “You have to do a ton of work to change your appearance Chris. You’re not really undercover material.”

“Well Tanya’s in the same boat,” I said.

“Not really. Tanya is five- five, so she’s average height or so. Cover her with a baggy dress and coat, some droopy stockings, and a shawl over her head and she starts to disappear. Contacts and a wig, along with theatrical makeup and she can disappear,” she said smugly. “We used to do it all the time to let her get out and about without drawing attention.”

“Well, I’m only five-ten, that’s pretty average and I could do contacts as well,” I said.

“Yeah, but it’s a lot harder to hide your body, stud, than it is hers. She’s small enough that we can drape enough ugly fabric over her to cover her killer bod. You on the other hand are shaped like a wedge, with muscles on your muscles!” she said.

I’ve always been muscular, but the V-squared had taken that to almost ridiculous extremes. Not overly bulky, but I look like I’m always ready to compete in a bodybuilding pose off. I wear a lot of loose shirts and baggy pants to cover it.

“Every description I’ve ever seen or heard of you begins with ‘extremely muscular’,” Galina agreed.

Lydia was looking me up and down, but Tanya spoke first. “Padding in strategic areas might do it, but your arms and hands would have to stay covered and your face would need latex prosthetics.”

“Hmm, that's a good project to work on,” Lydia mused.

“Why?” I asked. My personal desire to change my appearance had been for two reasons: everyone was following me, and my hair had been still long from my role as an uncover cop. This seemed a bit extreme.

“Because Chris, the time will most likely come when disguising you is both desirable and necessary. Better to get it done now, especially with the challenges you present,” Galina answered.

I wasn't used to my 'vampire-in-law' being nice to me. It sorta set me on edge.

“Good idea Lyd,” Tanya said. “Now I want to go visit the Outer Guard.”

Both Lydia and Galina wrinkled their noses at the thought of the sewers, but neither said anything negative.

“You hungry?” I asked, watching the slow smile that told me her answer. “Alright, breakfast first, then dressed, then sewers, then shower!” I said.

“Right order!” Lydia laughed.

***

A hour later found us moving through the tunnels of Citadel, while Tanya directed me to the best place to enter the sewers. Best as in most likely to find the vampires that haunted the drainage tunnels surrounding the Darkkin fortress. While we traveled, Tanya told me more about the vampires of the Outer Guard.

“Last I knew there were something like forty-seven of them, but that number changes from time to time,” she said.

“That's not many!” I said, surprised.

“Well out of a local population of anywhere from three hundred to five hundred Darkkin, that many who feel ostracized is about right. Not every vampire with a blemish or scar ends up outcast. Those with Chosen mates are not nearly as likely to live underground.”

“The whole Coven lives underground!” I said.

“Now, it does! But that's a recent move, the Outer Guard vampires have been living down here for decades and decades.”

“Do you know the three I mentioned?” I asked.

“Yes, they tend to be the representatives for the rest. I spent a bunch of time in the sewers during my....silent phase, so I know most of them.”

Tanya has been adjusting rapidly to her 'awakened' life, but she doesn't like to talk about her silent years with very many people. Mostly just me, Lydia and Nika, who can read her mind anyway.

She changed subjects. “ So, Uncle Illarion needs a new security chief, huh?”

My link wasn’t telling me much, I was flying blind. “Yeah, well he pulled a blade on me,” I replied, watching her sidelong to try and gauge her reaction.

“Never a smart idea,” she said with a nod, her bandaged eyes pointed ahead of the golf cart we were riding in. “A chosen has the right to stand up for their partner, awake or asleep, competent or incapacitated,” she intoned.

“That’s what I was taught,” I said, unsure if I should be defensive or not.

I let the cart slow, concentrating on her. She 'stared' straight ahead, if that's what you call it when a blindfolded person does it. Her smooth white throat flexed slightly as she swallowed reflexively.

“Dr. Singh believes that I'm healing so well because of what you did in the club, pouring your blood into my eyes and breathing it into my lungs,” she said, her voice soft. These changes in conversational direction were disconcerting enough by themselves. Add in the sudden mix of conflicting emotions I was feeling through our bond and I was thoroughly lost. She was alternately nervous, excited, unsure, fiercely happy and bemused.

“Ah, it seemed like the thing to do,” I said with a shrug, then realized she couldn't see it.

“He's really interested in the fact that this necklace is made of silver yet it doesn't burn me. It burned him when he touched it and regular silver still burns me,” she said, waving at her bandaged eyes as an example.

“It's never burned you all the times we've been together and I've forgotten to take it off,” I said.

“Hmm,” she purred, “that's so very true! I'll need to give it back.”

That was a statement. “Yeah, eventually I'll need it back. It helps with my dark side,” I agreed. “But until your eyes are healed, you need to wear it.”

“I am your Chosen!” she stated, like it was a Eureka moment.

“Ah, yes Tanya, I kinda thought we had established that,” I said.

She shook her midnight black hair. “You were my Chosen the moment you touched my heart,” she said, referring to the literal moment when I actually, physically touched her heart with my fingers.

“But you're human or at least you were when that happened. Choosing is a Darkkin thing. I never believed...never dared to hope that you could understand Choosing – never really get it!”

I stayed quiet, sensing she wasn't done yet.

“But everything you've done, every action you took is exactly what a Chosen would do!”

“So actions speak louder than words?” I asked.

Her kiss was answer enough, although I almost crashed the golf cart.

Chapter 25

We arrived at our destination, a rather inauspicious corridor that ended at a metal hatch door, like something from a submarine. Red rust streaked the plain metal and multiple generations of spiders had colonized the mesh covered light bulb positioned over it. As disused as it looked, there was nothing old or moldy about the electronic access panel that Tanya felt for and placed her hand against. It activated immediately, read her palm, and the door popped open an inch or two in response. I pulled it the rest of the way, peering through into a small pool of light from the bulb on the outside. Sewer stink hit my nose at the same time that the dripping sound of water struck my ears. Inky blackness led away in two directions and Tanya unerringly chose to turn left out the door. I followed her into the pitch black tunnel, my other senses coming alert to replace my next to useless vision. Night sight is only good if there is some ambient light, which there wasn't. Thermal vision only helps if there are contrasting heat levels, but everything was the same temperature. Tanya moved smoothly forward, her vampire sense of space, which near as I can figure out uses air currents, sound and the body's electric field, keeping her from smacking in to obstacles.

We hadn't gone far when I felt a change in the stinky air in front of us. Something was ahead, around the corner that was coming up quick. Tanya slowed while I started to move in front of her. She blocked me with her arm, pausing to process the meager sensory information coming our way.

“What no greeting, Niles?” she spoke suddenly. I concentrated on my vision, forcing it to go thermal. A white contrast to the cold blues of the concrete tunnel formed on the edge of the corner, becoming brighter until an orange outlined figure moved into view. Vampires are cooler than humans, who are cooler than weres. This was definitely a vampire, a male at that.

“Tatiana? What are you doing here?” a deep voice rumbled. His head was pointed in my direction, no doubt puzzled by my were-like body temperature.

“What, I can't visit old friends?” she asked, her voice relaxed, even as her body remained tense.

He paused for a moment, then chuckled deeply. “I suppose I should have guessed who you were by your companion. Moves like a vampire, radiates like a were, smells like a human.”

“Niles, this is Chris, my Chosen. Chris, this is Niles, one of the original Outer Guard.”

“Outer Guard! Shoot, girl, call us what we are...outsiders!” he said, the humor in his voice sounding real. He moved closer while he spoke and I noted the object held in his right hand was shaped like a fire ax. Fast and smooth as he moved, his posture revealed that something was wrong with his spine, as he was partially hunched over during each step that he took. He was thin and wiry, one of those guys whose voice doesn't seem to match their physique. But he was vampire and wiry means little where the V-squared virus is concerned. I watched him carefully, not excited to let any threats near Tanya. Both of them sensed my tension, probably because of the involuntary growl that escaped my throat.

“Christian, Niles is one of my oldest friends,” Tanya admonished gently. Niles had frozen into utter stillness, an immediate re-evaluation of my threat level visible in his body language. Moving slowly, he sheathed the fire ax on some kind of loop on his back. “No worries friend,” he said. “Your girl has been visiting us lowly types since she was just a newly minted teenager. An exceedingly quiet teenager I might add. But rest assured, no Darkkin from the depths would ever, ever permit any harm to our young Queen!”

I nodded, trusting him to see the gesture with his own thermal vision.

They chatted some more, Niles leading us further into the tunnels and announcing our presence to subsequent vampires, which started with the oldest looking vampire I had ever seen (she must have been turned in her seventies) as well as others who were missing one, two and even three limbs, not to mention other important body parts like eyes, ears and, in one case, at least a third of a skull. I now understood why Alex, Dave and Leet were the representatives for the disfigured vampires. I say disfigured and not disabled, as everyone of them could move around with at least human speed if not faster. The V-squared might not have been able to fully heal them, but it sure allowed them to adapt and overcome their deficiencies. Of the group I had seen so far, the three representatives were the most normal looking by far. The group was dressed in mostly clean, newer styled clothing which I hadn't anticipated. Then I heard a few mention nightly forays up to the city and realized they could still get anything they needed with just their vampire skills. I asked about blood though. Niles answered before Tanya could. “This one has seen to it that we get all the blood we need,” he said pointing a thumb back at my vampire. “Hasn't always been that way, in lean times we've had to make do as best we could,” he said. Another vampire in the glowing orange crowd that ghosted through the tunnels with us spoke the answer to my unspoken question. “Rats!” he said, then trailed off in a whispery mutter. “Yes, Oscar, rats are always a fall back. Not that a few of the 'residence challenged' haven't been poached a time or two,” Niles admitted. I realized the homeless would present a vulnerable prey population to the Outsiders. Tanya sensed my thoughts and spoke. “That doesn't happen now does it Niles?” she asked.

“What?” he said with a start, then glanced in my direction. “Oh, no! Not since we've been getting the steady supply from the Coven!” he said quickly.

“Our Young Queen here started that program when she still didn't talk. She had Nika translate her outrage to her mother and suddenly the Coven blood banks were sending down the good stuff!” he explained. A chorus of softly voiced affirmations followed that speech.

Shortly, we came to a big junction point, a place where six giant tunnels came together in one large space that was lit with compact fluorescent bulbs. Niles caught me looking at the modern bulbs and said with a smile, “They last longer.”

The common space was occupied by at least twenty Outsiders, with more arriving from the other tunnels in addition to the nine that were with us. Burns, lost limbs and facial disfigurements were most common. I was intrigued by the old 'looking' vampire whose name was Nancy. Most Darkkin were turned in their younger to middle human years, with twenties and thirties being most common. I was still thinking about that while Tanya spoke with virtually all the vampires present. She knew each by name and asked details of them that spoke of long years of association. She had talked to about two-thirds through the group when another vampire entered from the tunnels and caught my eye. My vampire age sense told me she was about one hundred and seventy or so, one of the oldest. But she looked like a twelve year old girl and she gave off a nasty vibe. Sliding through the ranks of vampires, who made way for her with haste, she moved closer to Tanya. Despite her brown eyed, brown haired school girl appearance, all I saw was an angry hundred plus year old vampire approaching my wounded mate.

The ‘girl’ vampire pushed between a Darkkin with one leg and a scarred woman, stopping to stare at Tanya, who couldn’t see her. I noticed the vampires around us went still at the sight of the girl. Tanya sensed something different, and certainly sensed my concern, but I was also dead determined that if the girl made a move I didn’t like I paste her. Tanya had to know that too.

Dressed in Abercrombie jeans, a Hollister tee shirt and wearing tan Ugg boots she was the very image of a seventh-grader till you looked at her eyes. Narrowed and old, they glared at Tanya with hate.

“Slumming Demidova? Or are you now one of us?” she asked in a hissing voice.

My vampire’s posture changed from slightly pensive to resigned and sad. “Hello, Trina, how have you been?” she asked, ignoring the girl’s questions and tone.

“How have I been? How have I been? As if you don’t know the answer Young Queen!” she said, managing to make the title into an insult. Tanya still didn’t defend herself, staying quiet instead. I wasn’t sure how much crap I would allow, but my limit was approaching.

“I’m the same Demidova! Always the same!” she said, pushing into Tanya’s personal space. I couldn’t stop myself from moving up to block her. Her hate filled face snapped my way.

“Who the fuck are you? Human?” she said, sniffing my scent. “Is this him? The one who ‘woke’ you?” she sneered, looking me up and down, derisively.

“Trina this is my Chosen, Chris,” Tanya said.

“And now you brought him as a snack for the rest of us?” the venom-filled teen clone asked.

The other vampires moved back and Alex with the scarred face spoke up. “That’s enough Katrina!” she said, trying to sound firm, but not quite making it. I understood that every vampire in the chamber was scared of Katrina who was eldest and therefore strongest.

“Fuck you Alex! I’ll help myself to what I want!” she hissed back, spinning and starting to come at me. Tanya took a step back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Trina, you are making a huge mistake! But I’m not going to stop you,” she said, resigned. “I will tell you he just took out Illarion Demidov’s chief of security!”

Trina bared her fangs in an attempt to scare me and the image of a twelve year old vampire was so wrong that I understood, a bit, of why there weren’t more children vampires. Darkkin abhor vampires who turn children. The penalty is death. But they also abhor child vampires, which would be the reason for Katrina’s presence in the sewers.

“But he used a gun to do it! And I don’t smell a gun on him now!” Katrina said, an evil smile gracing her face.

She blurred forward with all the speed and power of a one hundred and seventy year old vampire. I caught her by the throat and spun, throwing her across the room in the same direction she had been traveling. She hit the wall on her arms and feet, unharmed, and spun to attack again. I could feel the part of me that I labeled Grim calculate options, but it was my own conscious self that selected the one I felt most appropriate.

As the girl shot forward to attack again, I raised my right hand and blasted her with a bolt of aura. Just a tap. It had enough power to stop her and knock her back ten feet.

“I told you, Trina!” Tanya said. “In case you didn’t hear, my Chosen is not prey. In fact, he’s not even human…just smells like one. That’s because vampires and weres are his prey! If I let him, Trina, he’d chop you into dogmeat…with just his hands!”

Katrina just lay on the ground until Dave moved over to help her up. He touched her then shot back three feet in alarm. “She’ssss..human!”

“For a few days, then she’ll be back to her regular mean, hateful self,” Tanya said. The girl looked stricken and finally looked like a real twelve-year old. She stood and looked in horror at her hands, then the vampires around her, who all were pondering her change in status. Stumbling, she turned and rushed at mere human speed into the darkness, which was absolutely the wrong thing to do. A number of vampires started to move after her, their predator instincts taking over, but Tanya’s voice stopped them. “If you kill her, I’ll be unhappy with you,” she said simply, her tone even. It wasn’t a threat, just a statement, but every vamp stopped cold.

“We’re leaving now, but I would like to visit again tomorrow?” she asked.

Alex shook herself, looked at the others, then moved forward to take Tanya’s hands.

“Of course, Young Queen, we are honored! And despite her history, no one will kill Katrina. RIGHT?” she questioned the rest. There was a general mumbling of agreement.

Tanya stayed silent till we locked the steel hatch door and climbed back into the golf cart. While I was in the process of turning the golf cart around, she started to speak.

“When I was twelve I ran away from Lydia. It was an odd day, I had woken sad for some reason. I found my way below ground and eventually got turned around in the sewers. Trina found me. She sat and talked to me for hours, excited to find another child vampire, even if I was twelve to her hundred plus years. My silence was almost a form of handicap, something the Outsiders could relate to,” she began, not even really aware she had used her hated term for the sewer vamps.

“She brought me back to Lydia, who was fairly frantic with worry. After that I came down almost every day. My mother objected, but then Nika read my determination as well as my outrage that the vampires lived in the sewers and had to subsist on rats! So I was allowed down here, with supervision. And the Coven began sending blood and other supplies down, like money to buy stuff with.”

She paused while I negotiated a tight turn, reaching up automatically and grabbing the handhold she couldn't see.

“Imagine being trapped in a twelve-year old body for over a century and a half. Your mind continues to learn and mature, but your body never does. Every other vampire treats you like a pariah, for something you had no choice in. Now imagine you find a friend like yourself, but an important one who can make life better for you and all the other Darkkin who've been shunned by society,” she said.

“What happened?” I asked, thinking of Katrina's venom.

“I grew up,” was her simple answer. “Being the natural born freak I am, I grew like a human would. Trina became more and more distant from me. Then a year ago, you found me and I was speaking again.”

“And that made you even more like a normal vampire,” I said.

“Oh, not even close, because not only was I speaking, but vampires the world over were visiting and making a big deal of me, not to mention the fact that I had made my Choice in mates, something impossible for a vampire frozen in a twelve-year old body to even dream of.”

“So she's jealous of you,” I said, finding the right label for the problem and therefore able to dismiss it.

“Oh, you idiot, jealousy is only part of it,” she said gently. “She's hurt that I left her behind, that she only had me as a child for a few years. And the worst part is there isn't anything to say to help that. I don't even have the time to spend outside of Citadel, what with running the Coven and all.”

“Well, you're on convalescent leave at the moment. We can go back tomorrow if you like?” I suggested.

“Hmm, maybe. I doubt she'll want to see me, but maybe we should double check on her, make sure she's okay...being human again. I'm worried that she'll face repercussions from all the years her temper had the best of her.”

We made it back to the central part of the fortress, the hub where most of the activity was. We picked up an escort of security soon after entering Citadel. I wondered aloud about the lack of guards when we went into the sewers and Tanya just laughed. “Arkady knows full well that the Outer Guard would never hurt me, not even Trina for all her anger. In fact, they would fight tooth and claw to protect me.”

“Still, they don't even let us roam around here without guards,” I commented.

“Ah, that's because there are visitors here. Nobody visits the sewers and they wouldn't fair well if they did. The Outer Guard don't like regular Darkkin much,” she said with a chuckle.

We got back to the communications area and Tanya was immediately swarmed, first by Lydia and Galina, followed quickly by other concerned Coven members. I backed off to give her space and saw Chet waving at me from his cubicle.

“What's up?” I asked when I got close.

“I'm picking up some chatter from the Defense net. Something big happened in Arizona, got DHS and the Pentagon all stirred up,” he said. “It has to do with a little town down near the border, Santa Diablo.”

“How big is big?” I asked, a bad feeling in my stomach.

“Big as in I intercepted an encrypted email and the only part I could get clear was 'no survivors'.”

“No survivors? Where is this place?”

He brought up a Google Earth map, showing me small village in the mountains between Route 80 and Interstate 19, below Tucson. On another monitor he brought up a wikipedia file on the town's stats.

“Barely a village, population 243, according to the 2007 Census. The village is a really a bedroom community for a local uranium mine.”

“So what happened, a mining accident underground?” I asked, puzzled.

“The impression I got was of an attack. As in terrorist,” he said. His phone rang and he scooped it up.

“Hey Gina, how ar....ya, he's right here! Here ya go!” he said, handing me the phone, his eyebrows raised.

“Hey!” I said.

“I'll presume this is a marginally secure line, but I'm not going into details anyway. Listen, General Creek is sending a vehicle to pick you up, we have a briefing in a little more than a hour and a half.”

“Why don't I just meet you at the briefing location?” I asked.

“You won't get in or even get there in time. It's at the Pentagon,” she said.

“What's up?” I asked.

“Can't say outside of a secure facility, but you and I are headed to Washington, pronto.”

“Really? The general wants me there that bad?”

“No, Chris, the President wants you there that bad!” she said. She gave me a street corner and told me to meet her there in ten minutes or less, preferably less.

I hung up and turned around, finding Tanya, Lydia and Galina all in a row looking at me.

“I have to fly down to the Pentagon, now. Military transport jet. Something's happened and the President has requested my presence at the briefing. I suspect it has something to do with Chet's intercept,” I explained. Without a word they all looked at Chet, who nervously started telling them the same info he'd told me. I waited while they thought about it.

“Loki Spawn!” Galina stated, having reached the same conclusion I had. No other reason why the President, who didn't particularly like me would call me in. Unless it was to trap me.

“Is it a trap?” Lydia asked.

“I don't think so, I think Galina is right.”

“I don't like the uranium mine thing,” Tanya said. “We just found out that uranium is toxic to you!”

“I'm not headed there yet. Just Washington, and besides, it was depleted uranium. We don't know what regular uranium does. By the way, I'm pretty sure it's toxic to everyone, just me in particular.”

***

It took just five minutes to get ready, but that was with everyone moving at vampire speed. I rushed to the suite and grabbed a bundle of gear from my closet stash, then stuffed my pockets with pemmican and candy bars. Lydia grabbed me giant Dagwood sandwich from Remy the chef and I was off through the tunnels in a security cart that had been pimped out and could travel at close to forty miles an hour. I ate the sub while we careened around corners and sped down long corridors.

Tanya sat next to me, very quiet, but I could feel her anxiety. When we finally slid to a stop just below the building in front of the corner I needed to be on, she pulled off the Tear of God necklace and put it over my head. “I would rather you kept this to heal faster,” I said.

“I’m about done anyway. Dr. Singh said my bandages come off a little later tonight. Listen, we’ll be down in one of the corporate jets as soon as we get organized,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because, unless I miss my guess, you’ll be headed to the problem area not long after the briefing. That’s the only reason the President could have for wanting you there. Gina knows as much about weres and vamps as you do, but no one can fight them like you!”

Put like that there wasn’t much left to doubt. I kissed her long and slow, not caring that the security guys were there, then I headed up to the surface.

Chapter 26

A couple of minutes later I was seated in the back of another Chevy Suburban, which was the middle vehicle in a convoy that raced through the streets of the City with police cars clearing traffic ahead of us.

A quick stop at the Downtown Heliport, a short copter ride to the federal section of JFK and in minutes we were airborne in an Air Force Gulfstream headed to Reagan National Airport in D.C.

I was a little shocked at the speed with which I found myself deep in the Pentagon in a briefing room. General Creek, Gina and I had been whisked through security checkpoint after checkpoint, visitor passes in hand, escorted by a Navy Lt. Commander. I looked at the wall clock which reported that it wasn't yet quite five AM.

The room reminded me of a small college lecture theater, seats arraigned in rising oval tiers around a central podium, with space to handle at least fifty people, although there was nowhere near that many people present. Once shown into the briefing room, Creek claimed one of the last open front row seats, indicating to Gina to take the one to his left. He never even looked my way. Fine with me, I prefer the back of the room, or in this case the upper back of the room, tier four as it were.

There was an interesting mix of people present and I munched a pemmican bar while I tried to figure them all out. A blonde lady in civilian attire gave me a dirty look as I munched my snack.

Sorry lady, doctor’s orders- I thought to myself.

Creek's row was filled with a mixture of dark suits and military uniforms. The self important posturing and arrogant attitudes told me these were high ranking intelligence and military department heads. Aides and lackeys took up the row immediately behind them. Every branch of the US military was present as well as a heavy Homeland security turnout. The individuals by the podium were also mixed suits and uniforms, with what appeared to be an Army colonel in dress greens and a bald-headed FBI type leading the pack.

I noticed a small group of soldiers in digital camouflage seated together and bearing all the indicators of a very serious special operations unit. Several Air Force personnel clustered together at the other end of the roughly oval shaped room, a couple of who looked familiar to me. I was pretty sure they had been driving the planes I had jumped out of over the last few weeks. Just below the pilots, sitting in the front row, was an older, white-haired gentleman in a crisp black suit, holding a black cane with a crystal knob. Seated to his left was a young, fit looking woman in business attire, black hair in a bun, with black rimmed glasses that matched her black eyes and a leather bound iPad. The reason they caught my eye was twofold. First, I knew instantly that the woman was a were, and second, they were both staring at me. The gent caught my eye and nodded once, then turned his attention to the podium where it looked like things were getting ready to start. The woman continued to stare at me and her look was both challenging and speculative. I had the feeling she was measuring me for a fight. I was still trying to figure out what kind of were she was when activity at the front caught my attention.

The Army colonel stepped to the microphone and greeted the room.

“Good morning! I'm Colonel Steve Horgen and along with Deputy Director Clarke here, will be delivering the briefing. After the initial brief, the President will address us by video,” he said, without much preamble.

“At approximately 0223 Eastern time, the Santa Cruz sheriff's department in southern Arizona received a 911 call from a Rose Verez in Santa Diablo. Here’s the playback – “ he nodded to a junior officer at a computer workstation. The ceiling speakers immediately came to life.

“Hello, 911, what's your emergency?” said the calm voice of the dispatcher.

“Oh my God, they're everywhere!...tearing people apart --” a woman's histerical voice spoke, background noise making it difficult to hear.

“Say that again, Ma'am. Please repeat your situation?” the dispatcher's voice was suddenly alert.

(scream)..they're animals...oh God...not my baby...(animal roar of rage, screams, wet ripping crunching sounds...static)

Colonel Horgen looked up at the room and continued.

“A sheriff's patrol reached Santa Diablo thirty-one minutes later, reported widespread destruction, fires and bodies, then stopped reporting in. Two additional patrol cars reached the village fifty-six minutes after last contact with the patrol car and reported no living survivors in the village, as well as the bodies of the deputies. Sheriff Jester, by this point had called the Pima County Homeland Security field office as well as Arizona State Police. Fort Huachuca dispatched a Fast Response Team who arrived by Blackhawk approximately three hours after the first deputies stopped responding. The following is footage from helmet cams worn by that team.”

Another nod at the computer guy caused the lights to dim while a giant wall LCD monitor showed grainy footage taken at night. The only illumination was provided by weapons lights and the fires burning in almost every direction that the cameras turned. The view point switched between the team leader and his second in command. The voice overlay picked up the two leaders words as well as shouted information from the other team members and the uniformed police who were searching the shattered little community. The pictures showed broken and torn bodies, smashed windows and ripped open doors, flipped cars, crackling downed power line,s and fires everywhere. After about ten minutes of footage that conveyed a complete lack of life in the village, the colonel signaled to end it.

“The team leader reports approximately two hundred bodies of men, women and children as well as numerous slain dogs. As you saw from the footage, almost all of the dead showed evidence of gross mutilation consistent with large predator mauling. No bodies of attackers were found. Footprint evidence at the site was…confusing. Large animal tracks and some bare human footprints,” He paused to look around the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, please stand for the President!” he snapped. The whole room stood up and the monitor opened to the image of the President in a White House Situation room. He looked around, obviously able to see the people on our side through the camera mounted over the LCD.

“Thank you Colonel Horgen. First, let me tell you all that this event is immediately classified Above Top Secret- Presidential Order. Second, when word leaks past all of our media blocks, it will be referred to as a terrorist event. Eventual blame will be place on Mexican gangs currently operating over the border. There WILL be a US response against those gangs.” He paused and looked around at all of us again. “However, it should be obvious to everyone that the perpetrators of this...assault..were not those same gangs. We have satellite footage from the National Reconnaissance Office showing the group before and after.” He nodded off screen and the picture split down the middle with the President on the right and a nighttime satellite image on the left. The screen was big enough that each split screen was still over ten feet on the diagonal. The night image was a thermal camera, the scene moving slightly as the satellite continued on its orbital path.

A long line of white hot dots wound through dark mountainous roads, stopping in a group just outside a cluster of glowing rectangles laid in haphazard patterns. The dots paused for a short time, then began, first in ones and twos, then in clumps, to glow brighter and bigger. The new brighter dots spread out and moved into the village and began to break into each dwelling. The satellite must have moved out of position as the picture cut off.

“A second satellite came through forty-nine minutes later and picked up this,” the President said.

The line of winding dots moved South now, the village to their North glowing brighter in multiple locations, as fires burned.

“We were able to continue to track them into the mountains Southwest of Cananea, Mexico. We have their probable location. NRO is tasking additional satellites to develop better intell. Now, we know where they came from and where they ended up.”

The sat image disappeared, replaced with a map overlay that showed the locations, roads and terrain. A red arrow pointed at the attackers’ last position.

“We also know who or maybe I should say what the attackers are. Ladies and gentlemen, what we are about to reveal is not fiction and not folklore but in fact, reality. Doctor Gatsenburg, if you please!”

The young blond lady who had frowned at my snacking stood up and walked to the front, while at the same time the room door opened and an extra long hospital gurney was wheeled in, a white sheet covering the form on it.

Dr, Gatsenburg turned and looked at the audience, an intense look on her face.

“Folklore often carries a degree of truth to it,” she said, then whipped the sheet off the gurney revealing a hulking, fur covered body with a huge head and massive jaws. Frost covered the fur and rimmed the nostrils. It was the body of a werewolf in beast-man form, although it was misshapen. I’ve seen hundreds of them, but this one hit me really hard – it was George Lassiter’s body.

I took a deep breath, the sound of which was lost in the sudden noises and voices of the rest of the room as they got their first look at a were.

“This, ladies and gentlemen, is an actual lycanthrope….a werewolf!” the young scientist said.

Voices of doubt and instant derision started to sound, cut short by the President.

“Quiet! This is real! Deadly real!” he said. “Now pay attention and remember…none of this leaves this room!”

The doctor nodded at the President’s image, then continued.

“This specimen weighs three hundred and thirty-seven pounds. The body, when upright, stands at just shy of seven feet. Musculature is three times denser than human muscle. The heart is oversized as are all the major blood vessels. The brain has an enlarged olfactory nerve cluster, and the eyes have a hundred times the number of rods as a human eye. Also, this organism has a DNA code that matches human DNA to ninety-eight percent.”

“Thank you doctor! Gina, perhaps you could fill us in on this specimen?” the President interrupted. Dr. Gatsenburg looked first surprised, then irritated.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Gina Velasquiz is my Official Advisor on Anomalous lifeforms which include weres. She was present when this particular werewolf was taken,” the President explained, his voice catching a little on the word werewolf.

Gina glanced at me for a second, gauging my reaction, then after a sad nod, she stepped up to where the now curious doctor had been standing, turning to face the audience.

“The subject’s name is George Lassiter. He was bitten by a werewolf twenty-eight days before he Changed to this form. Weres have three possible forms, human normal, full animal form or this one, which we call beast-man form. Most weres can only go directly to their animal form which is a pretty close match for the standard animal, only much larger. With time and experience weres can learn to stop at the beast-man form, which can be advantageous in combat. Weres must change during a full moon, but experienced weres can change at will.”

A four star general in the front row raised his hand, then spoke. “You keep saying ‘their animal’, am I to understand that there are other types?”

She glanced at the President’s image on the monitor and he answered her unspoken question.

“Go ahead Gina, you are cleared for full disclosure,” he said.

“The answer to your questions is yes, General. There are werewolves, bears, tigers, cougars, other big cats, weasels, and several others, although rare. Wolves are the most common,” she said.

An admiral raised his hand and addressed the President.

“Mr. President, you said, Ms. Velaquez is your advisor on anomalous lifeforms? What else is there besides these weres?”

“Good catch Stan, but I’m afraid we’re gonna have to hold off on that discussion for now,” the Commander-in-Chief said.

A Marine four-star asked the next question. “Ma’am, can you tell us what killed him?”

Gina glanced again at the President who shook his head. “Sorry Stan, I’m sure the doctor can explain the causes of death. The actual circumstances are highly classified. Doctor?”

Gatsenburg perked up and launched into a lecture.

“The subject suffered massive trauma to just about every major organ in the thoracic region,including a crushed heart, punctured lungs, spleen, liver and stomach all ruptured, six broken vertebrae, a shattered sternum, collapsed trachea and a broken jaw. Not to mention lesser breaks in both hands..ere..paws as well as the right forearm. However, the actual cause of death was a puncture wound to the lower cerebellum. Entry wound is in the base of the skull,” she explained, pointing out each wound as she went. “Analysis of the wound channel revealed trace amounts of silver.”

There was silence for a few moments, then the Marine general spoke up.

“Jesus! He was beaten to a pulp! Then stabbed with a silver.knife?”

“A spike or more like a long needle or dart,” the doctor supplied.

“Who…or what could do that to monster like that?”

I wasn’t watching anymore, instead leaning my head on my hands. I felt eyes on me and looked up knowing Gina was watching me, but I also noticed the old guy and his were assistant watching me as well. The gent was curious, the assistant unreadable.

“We have an asset,” the President said, finally answering the question. “Which brings me to chain of command. This operation will be headed by General Creek, who heads the Directorate of Anomalous Activity. Whether you’ve heard of DOAA or not, they are tasked with protecting our citizens from these ‘lifeforms’ as well as the others we won’t be talking about tonight.”

“Mr. President? If I may, this appears to be a situation that will require military action within the borders of an ally nation. I’m not sure the General’s team is necessary to conduct air to ground strikes on a covert basis,” an Air Force four-star spoke up.

“We won’t be utilizing cruise missiles or bombs. One of the details we haven’t disclosed yet is that the weres that struck Santo Diablo took hostages. Deputy Director Clarke? If you please,” the President said.

A little over six feet tall, Deputy Director Clarke of the FBI was built like an aging football player who’d lost his hair.

“The area traversed by the attackers is also ground zero for the drug gang warfare that’s occurred recently. As a result we have a large number of undercover assets in that vicinity. Two separate agents witnessed the motorcycle convoy pass by. Both agents indicated that they were carrying female hostages,” he said, pausing to let that sink in. “Municipal records for Santa Diablo indicate there may be as many as thirteen children unaccounted for, all teenagers, all female. In addition, at least one motorcycle had a heavily loaded trailer behind it. Santa Diablo is a mining community. The village housed the workers for a local uranium mine. We canvassed the mine and found tracks of several motorcycles, one of which had a small trailer. The only thing disturbed at the mine was one container of high grade pitcheblende.”

He stepped back. The President spoke.

“So they have hostages, why we don’t know. They also have a measure of uranium ore, again we don’t know the purpose of. It’s been surmised that the ore could make a dirty bomb, but I’m told it wouldn’t be the best choice. Gina, do you have any thoughts?”

“Not at this point, Mr. President. The last group of Loki’s Spawn eliminated in this country had two children as hostages, but we haven’t figured out their purpose yet,” she said.

I actually had a working idea going, but I wasn’t about to voice my rather wild theory here and now without more evidence behind it.

“Regardless of the reason for the hostages, the fact remains that they are there. So it will be a direct assault,” the President continued.

The four-star Army general spoke up. “Mr. President, Delta’s ready to go!”

“I’m sure of that, Jack, but Delta’s not quite ready for these particular adversaries. Tobias, please explain.”

Creek stood up and moved to the podium. “The average werewolf weighs between three and four hundred pounds in either wolf or beast-man form. Werebears can range to well over twelve hundred pounds. Cat types approach eight hundred. All are much faster than humans, can see in the dark better than our best night vision gear, with the hearing and sense of smell of their natural counterparts. Experienced weres can shift in as little as fifty seconds. Loki’s Spawn have all types of weres in the gang, all are heavily armed with automatic weapons and at least some RPG weapons and grenades. Weres are extremely resistant to physical damage. Mr Lassiter here was a first time changer, hence his malformed shape. Nonetheless, his remains show that he had sustained four times the damage he died with…he simply healed from the early beatings.”

The Marine general spoke at Creek’s pause. “Wait, you’re saying he healed from that amount of damage four times?”

“Yes, in fact his spine was broken at one point early on and it completely healed in moments.”

“How is that possible?” the Marine asked.

Creek looked at Gina to field that one. “General, we believe quantum physics plays a huge role in the supernatural world. The current working theory among experts is that weres harness either quantum particles or Dark Matter or something similar to increase their mass when changing from human form. It also allows them to heal most damage almost instantly.”

“What experts are you referencing?” Doctor Gatsenburg asked, clearly unhappy with the idea of scientists with more firsthand knowledge than herself.

“Gina has strong connections to the supernatural community. The scientists she refers to are members of that group,” General Creek answered.

“You know weres?” the doctor asked, incredulous.

“Yes, I have good relations with several important groups,” Gina said with a nod, then launched into further detail. “Lycanthropy is caused by a virus, which is know as LV, or Lycan Virus. Silver is instantly deadly to the virus. The virus changes the host’s mitochondria and that’s what allows the use of the quantum particles. Silver damage is therefore permanent damage,” she said.

I sure hope not, thinking of Tanya’s eyes.

The admiral interrupted. “You’re saying there are other gangs of these killers loose?”

“Admiral Roberts, there are many, many groups of supernaturals living within every society on this planet. There are actually many weres in the military, as they tend to thrive in that environment. Ninety percent or more are law abiding, extremely productive citizens who raise families, attend church and vote for school budgets. Like any population, there are elements that choose, for whatever reason, to break society’s laws,” Gina replied.

Deputy Director Clarke spoke. “You keep saying ‘supernaturals’? What else is there besides weres? Zombies? What?”

The President sighed. “Without going too much off track, there are also vampires.”

The room was really quiet now.

“Mr. President, is this for real? Werewolves and vampires? Come on...er. Sir,” said a Homeland Security type.

The President had been emoting a contained sort of anger, calm, but deadly serious. Now he exploded.

“If you can't handle the truth sitting in front of you on that gurney, then get out!” he all but shouted.

“That goes for any of you that think this is some kind of joke! Deal with it or get gone! And if you choose to leave you better treat this as Above Top Secret information with all the penalties that carries with it!”

The army general gave the DHS guy a disgusted glare then spoke up. “Mr. President, I understand the sort of threat this group represents, which is why I still feel Delta should lead on this one, Sir.”

“I don't think you do, Jack! I'm not sure how you could, just from looking at the dead body of a baby,”the President responded.

“A baby, Sir?”

“Gina, would you explain?”

“Yes, Mr. President. General, most supernaturals are converted or transformed from basic human stock. Weres, however, can be both born or transformed. The transformed supes, like vampires and bitten weres, count their age mainly from the time of transformation, particularly vampires, or Darkkin as they call themselves. Both types gain in strength and speed over time, but more so vampires. Mr. Lassiter was a brand new werewolf who went through his first Change without the guidance of an older wolf. The basic human psyche is poorly equipped to handle this kind of complete change, alone and unguided. The subject usually goes...well...essentially, insane. Mr. Lassiter was no exception and so he was put down. Natural born weres can handle the change on their own, but ironically, they are usually the most likely to have help,” she concluded.

“So you're saying that hulk would be even bigger if he was older?” the Admiral asked, ahgast.

“No, but much better refined. Mr. Lassiter showed unique ability to reach this intermediate state, rather than the full animal form. He was most likely attempting to hang on to his humanity,” Gina said. “Given help and guidance he might have made a good werewolf.”

My stomach felt like I was going to hurl chunks, except my body doesn't ever waste food anymore. Old George had been trying to control himself and I had beaten him to death for sport! Gina glanced my way after saying that, then hastily amended her statement.

“But he was ultimately unsuccessful and if left alone would have killed at least two people,” she said, as if that helped.

General Creek spoke. “Jack, my first-in guys are all recruited outta Delta. They train on some very special simulators and we use weapons and tactics carefully crafted for weres. Our best casualty rate on the simulators is still fifty percent!”

“Are you saying you haven't improved?” the army guy asked.

“Oh we've improved. Our initial scores were ninety-five percent casualties.”

“How would you know your simulations are accurate? Have you ever gone up against these things?” Jack the general asked.

“Currently my unit has approximately one hundred kills, but those were for one individual. That same individual calibrates our simulators, so they're accurate.”

“You’re telling me that a single person has killed a hundred of these...these monsters?” he asked.

“Actually, that individual has killed in excess of three hundred weres of various types as well as several vampires,” Creek said, factually.

“Let me guess, same guy that killed the Lassiter thing on the table?” the Marine asked.

“Why do you assume it was a guy, General?” Gina asked, curious.

He blinked a few times. “A girl did that!”

“No General, the individual in question is a male, but there are females that could match him, or come close,” she said.

No shit! I could think of three instantly. I glanced at the old dude and his were girl to see how they were taking this. The old guy was looking amused and interested, but not shocked in the slightest. He was leaning forward, both hands clasped on the walking stick in front of him. The assistant was watching me, her gaze speculative. I still didn't know what she was. I just knew she wasn't a wolf, and likewise, she didn't give me a hint that she was a cat or bear. Not shifty enough for a weasel, too formidable. Something different.

“So what's he use, a tank?” the army general asked, half joking.

“Mostly his hands and feet, sometimes a gun with silver loads, or in the case of Lassiter, a silver dart,” Creek answered.

“A human being can kill something like that with hand-to-hand?”

“Nobody said our guy is human!” Creek said with a nasty grin.

“So what is he?” the Admiral asked.

“Gentlemen, that's classified even above your levels,” the President interjected. “But regardless, our guy will be going in on this one...am I right Gina?” he asked, looking at her for confirmation. She let her gaze float over me as she turned to look at the President’s image. I nodded as our eyes met briefly.

“Yes Mr. President, he will be.”

“Excellent!” he said. “Get it done! General Creek has command of this operation and I expect full cooperation by every and I mean EVERY department and asset we have, am I clear?” he demanded.

The room chorused “Yes Sir!”

“Then let's get to it.”

Chapter 27

The President signed off and after some long speculative looks in Gina’s direction, the majority of big shots went to look at Lassiter's remains, which were steaming in the warm air. Poor George would need to be refrozen soon. Gina headed my way, while Creek talked with his fellow generals.

“How you doing?” she asked when she got close.

“Well, I never expected any of this when I got up today...er.. yesterday. So George was trying to stay human?”

Gina sighed, then covered my hand with her own. “Most likely, based on guesses by Brock and Afina, but he couldn’t have stopped it and couldn’t retain his sanity. He would have killed Stacia and her boyfriend.”

She watched me for a moment then added. “This is a stupid question, but...are you hungry?”

I just stared at her and she laughed which caused more looks our way.

“I told Creek you would be, so he's got an aide coming to take us to a cafeteria or restaurant.”

Said aide, in the form of a Marine First Lieutenant, told us the options for restaurants, then, at my request took us to the Dunkin' Donuts in the Main Food Court.

Three Cheddar Maple bagels, plus a quarter of Gina's veggie eggwhite on flatbread and a mug of coffee later and I felt better. I was polishing off her sandwich when the white-haired gent and his assistant walked in and headed right for us. Smiling as he approached, his gait was energetic but he had a slight limp in his left leg. His assistant followed smoothly behind him, her movements all controlled power.

“Mr. Gordon and Mrs. Velasquez!, “ the spry oldster greeted us, white teeth gleaming.

He grabbed first Gina's hand and then mine, shaking with a firm grip. The were assistant said nothing.

Up close I realized she had a strong measure of Native American blood in her, and something of her dark looks spoke of Alaska or the far North. Her scent was musky, strong, but not unpleasant.

“But where are my manners? I'm Nathan Stewart and this is Adine Benally,” he said.

He pulled up two chairs and they both sat down. Our guide who was sitting a table away, nursing a cup of coffee, spotted Stewart and jumped to his feet. He came right over, nervously adjusting his uniform.

“Director Stewart! Can I get you something, coffee or a donut?” he blurted, clearly impressed.

Stewart waved a hand, but I saw a flash of want dash across Adine's features as she glanced at the last crumbs of breakfast sandwiches on our plates.

“Ms. Benally would probably like an egg and bacon sandwich,” I said, handing him a twenty dollar bill. Surprise flashed across both the Director's and Adine's faces. The young Marine officer, whose name was Beck, I think, shot right over to the line and ordered the sandwich before anyone could object.

Director Stewart looked from me to Adine and then looked chagrined. “I'm sorry my dear, I never even thought to ask,” he said to her, before looking back at me. “Thank you Mr. Gordon, that was most thoughtful.” His clear blue eyes held an inquisitive gleam as he processed my action. Gina knew something had gone on, but was unsure what and Ms. Benally was looking a little closed off…er…more closed off.

“What are you Director of?” Gina asked.

“You know, I've been looking forward to meeting the two of you for quite some time, imagining how it would go in my head you see, and I'm afraid it's going nothing like I expected,” he said with a self deprecating chuckle.

“My dear Mrs. Velasquez, I have the honor of heading up a small group of unique individuals who help this great nation in ways that no one else can! My group is not well known and we like it that way!” he said. “But we enjoy the support of the President as we have with all of his predecessors. In fact, it was his thought I might be interested in meeting you, Mr. Gordon.”

“Chris...you can call me Chris,” I said, charmed despite myself.

Lieutenant Beck brought the sandwich over and placed it in front of Adine, while handing me my twenty back uncashed. “I took care of it'” he said with a blush, then moved back to his table. Adine for her part looked at the sandwich like she was mad at it, but Stewart spoke up. “Oh go ahead, Adine. Chris was quite right that you're hungry, so you might as well enjoy it,” he said.

“How did you know she was hungry?” Gina asked me, looking puzzled.

“She's a were, they're always hungry, just like me,” I said quietly with a grin.

Adine only just managed not to spit her food out and Stewart looked at me with surprised respect.

“Oh bravo, young man!” he said, “Nicely done!”

Gina reevaluated the young woman carefully, but not in a disrespectful way, just surprised, like someone had told her Adine was Elvis's second cousin.

“See Adine! This is exactly why I wanted to meet this young man!” he said.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked me.

“If I can ask one of you in return?” I said.

“Oh by all means, ask away!” he said.

“What kind of were is Ms. Benally?” I asked.

“You don't know?” he asked with a delighted grin. “Care to guess?”

I took my time looking her over, her eyes meeting mine directly as she ate the rest of the sandwich. I flipped over to my Sight, then almost jumped at the amount of green in her aura. Weres are always mixed green and blue. Blue is standard human and animals are all green. Most weres auras are like sixty percent blue and forty or so percent green. Adine’s was the other way around, with the green dominant. Then I glanced at the Director who was all blue, except for a slight smattering of green on his left leg, the one with the limp.

That was surprising as well. I’ve never seen that in a human except a newly bitten one. This wound was old though, I could tell.

I switched back to normal vision and again looked her over. My ability to tell vampires ages and weres breeds at a glance is odd and tied, somehow, I believe to my drawing ability and visions.

Looking at a were, I instantly know they’re lycanthropes and usually some features or characteristics pull me in the right direction of their breed.

Adine was now licking some butter and melted cheese off her fingers and I got a flash of brown fur and a broad muzzle in my mind’s eye.

“She’s not wolf, bear, or cat. I don’t believe she’s weasel either. Something else, badger or fisher…..” a sudden insight hit me. “She’s a wolverine!” I said, my voice rising just slightly on the word wolverine, enough that heads turned. I lowered my voice.

“I’m right aren’t I? You’re a were wolverine!”

Stewart grinned, pleased, and turned to look at Adine, who nodded once. “We prefer wereverine…it’s easier to say,” she said, evenly. Her voice was much softer and higher pitched than I would have guessed.

I looked at them again with my Sight, noticing how bright her shade of green was and how the tiny amount in his leg was the exact same color.

“Director Stewart, you had a question for me?

“I do. I know from reports I’ve read and from what I heard today that most of your kills were with your hands. Yet I’ve never heard that you had claws….or even fangs? You also don’t transform into something else, so how do you do it?” he asked.

I paused for a moment, not really ready for his direct manner. “So the President threw me under the bus?”

“As I said, my relationship with the Oval office goes back a long time. The President copies me on most of Mrs. Velaquiz’s reports.”

Gina looked as surprised as I felt. After considering things for a bit longer I finally decided to answer his question, at least in part.

“It’s true that I don’t transform or anything, but other than claws or fangs, vampires don’t either. I’m very strong and fast and I have weapons…just not visible ones,” I said, not wanting to tell him anymore.

He nodded, his look fascinated, but when I didn’t keep going he sighed. “I understand your reluctance to tell me more, but you’re just so interesting.”

I wanted to ask about the LV virus in his leg, but the thought occurred to me that maybe Adine had attacked him at one point. Her posture where he was concerned was protective, almost like a bodyguard. If I brought up the question, it was possible I might strike a nerve and she might come at me. I was pretty sure that a wereverine would be formidable and the food court of the Pentagon wasn’t a good place to have a sparring match with a were of any kind.

Over at his lone table, Lt. Beck suddenly pulled his cell phone from his pocket and answered a call. “Yes, sir! Right away,Sir!”

I spoke to Director Stewart. “I think our time is up. If I’m not mistaken, I think we’re about to be called back to class by teacher Creek.”

Lt. Beck appeared next to our table, an anxious look on his face. I waved him off. “We’re coming, Lieutenant.”

“Nice to meet you Director, Ms. Benally,” I said. Gina echoed my words.

“Oh, wait! I have something for you, Chris. Think of it as a gift,” Stewart said, fumbling in his suit pocket. After a moment of panicked looking, he pulled out a flash drive with a victorious smile. “Here you are, my group was able to track this file down. You should find that information most interesting!”

He handed me the flash drive, along with a plain business card that listed just his name and a cell number, and then popped up, quite spry despite the leg and walked away with Adine. The wereverine glanced back at us once, her expression unreadable.

***

We found Creek knee deep in a swarm of military and DHS personnel in some kind of planning center. The four big shot generals had left with their staffs, but there were plenty of other people surrounding a table top computer modeling system. As large as a really big kitchen island, the whole surface of the table was constructed of an advanced touchscreen computer. The general and his planners just moved their hands in the open space above the monitor and were able to manipulate the display accordingly.

Creek turned to us as we entered. “Alright, we’ve got more information on the Loki’s position. They’re hold up in a copper mine, near Cananea, Mexico. We’ve gotten ahold of some of the mines layout but not everything we need…yet,” he said. As he spoke, an aide brought up a three dimensional hologram that hovered over the tabletop, showing a pair of low slung mountains with a outlined pit near the base of them. At one corner of the pit, glowing white dots marked moving Spawn, but those that moved toward the pit wall immediately disappeared. “We’ve got a pair of Reapers in orbit over the area, but our thermal imagery doesn’t get us very deep into the mountain. Based on the human assets who observed the motorcycle convoy, there were about fifty weres involved. We believe there to be anywhere from seventy-five to over two hundred weres inside the mine.”

Before I could get a good look at the layout, an Airforce Captain came up to us and interrupted.

“Sir,” he said, addressing Creek, “we’ve have a phone call for an ‘Operative Grim’? It’s on a Pentagon secure line and it’s from a Chet Aikens. We don’t know how he got the number and we can’t determine where the call is originating from.”

“The answer to how he got the number is all in his name…Aikens! I’d love to throw him in jail on the grounds of national security, then hire him myself, but

your people probably wouldn’t let us near him!” Creek said, looking at me when he mentioned people.

“Yeah, they’re pretty fond of his skills already,” I said, unable to control my grin. Creek didn’t return it but he did tell the Captain to take me to a phone. Gina followed me over to the console where I picked up a corded handset and said, “Hello? Chet?”

“Dude, who’s the man? Calling into the Pentagon and shit! I’m telling you, between my know how and the tech I have to fool with…I am the Shit!”

“Yeah, you’re the bomb alright!” I said, then waved hurriedly at the startled look on a passing Marine’s face at the word bomb. Ooops, forgot the lack of humor in the Pentagon.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“We’re on our way,” he said.

“What? Who’s on their way?” I asked, looking at Gina who had heard everything because I had held the receiver closer to her ear than mine.

“Ah, well pretty much a full crew! T and Lyd, Ark, and a ton of his boys of both flavors, as well as some additional that Grandma brought with her from Europe,” he said.

“Grandma? Grandma came home?” I asked, speaking of Senka, one of the two remaining Elders and Tanya’s vampire grandmother.

“Yeah, she and Momma are holding the fort, but she sent some heavy hitters along with your girl. We’re in flight now, scheduled for landing in Reagan in….twenty-two minutes,” he said.

“What? What the hell is going on?” I asked. Gina’s eyes had widened at the mention of the plane and she spoke up before Chet could answer my question.

“Chet, Gina here, what kind and flight number is your plane?”

“Corporate 747 for Rowan Industries, flight number 1729,” he responded.

Gina darted away to Creek’s side, leaning over to whisper in his ear. The room was noisy but I could hear her comments.

“ – General, a private 747 will be landing at Reagan National in about twenty minutes. Flight is 1729, Rowan Industries. It has an enormously important cargo on board and nobody, but nobody should be interfering with it!” she said. When he looked at her, curious, she filled him in on who was on board and he started issuing orders for the proper handling of the plane when it landed.

“Chet, what’s going on?” I repeated.

“What do you think, dude? The Cov…company is going to war! We know about the village in Arizona, both from DoD web intercepts and the company’s own personnel in that part of the world. The folks who assaulted your girlfriend are apparently working with the folks who carried out the village hit. Who you will no doubt be visiting in short order. You aren’t going alone by the way!”

I had guessed that if she could see than Tanya would insist on going with me. My days of solo hunting were probably over.

“How’re her eyes?”

“Ah, well, they’re back to their normal amazing color. Her vision is perfect, but there has been a slight change. You’ll have to see it yourself.”

“Scarring?” I guessed.

“Ah, noooo, none. Dude, I can’t really explain it, you’ll just have to wait for the right circumstances and you’ll see for yourself. Next time she loses her temper you’ll understand,” he said cryptically.

Gina came back over and held her hand out for the phone.

“Chet, listen, her are the landing instructions and callsigns your flight should use with Reagan. It’s all set up, you’ll be shunted to a secure area and no one will attempt to board. Refueling will also be taken care of in that protected area. If anything, ANYTHING is out of whack, YOU call me on my cell, got it?” she asked. I heard his affirmative, then she began to give him instructions.

Chapter 28

The General held off a planning session until Tanya’s plane landed and was secured at Reagan Airport. He had arraigned for a secure hanger, big enough to house the 747 out of sight and out of the sun. Some of the vampires on the plane could handle sunlight, but not all and most had to struggle to stay awake. A secure connection was established between the grounded plane and the Pentagon to hold a joint strategy session. There was no way the Coven would be allowed in the Pentagon and vice versa any of Creek’s people being allowed on the Coven plane. I stayed with the General and Gina, but I would be headed to the plane as soon as we were done.

The briefing room was now cleared of everyone but Creek’s staff, a total of about eleven people present. Chet, Tanya, Arkady and Deckert were visible on the wall monitor. I also heard a very tired sounding Lydia off screen making the occasional comment, but my sight was glued to Tanya’s open, healed, exquisite blue eyes. She held my own gaze till we were forced to acknowledge the others around us.

“Okay, here’s what we know,” Creek started off, first clearing his voice to get our attention. The planning table hologram lit up with first an overhead of the site then zoomed down as the General continued to talk. “Just Southeast of Cananea, Mexico is the Cananea Copper mine, which is one of the largest copper mines in the world. It’s been shut down since 2007 when miners went on strike because of the unsafe conditions. Currently it’s an open pit mine, large enough to be easily visible from space. Originally, it was owned and started by an American, a Col. W.C. Greene, in the early nineteen-hundreds. The Colonel’s original mine was a standard shored up dug tunnel type of operation and parts of that still exist. This is where the Spawn have gone to ground.”

The open pit mine was carved into the lower portions of a small mountain. The three dimensional, green-lined image now moved up the slope of the pit and zoomed in on an opening.

“We have not been able to find any historical tunnel maps to go by. We’re attempting to use ground penetrating radar to get a better idea, but the geology is wreaking havoc with our results.”

“General?” Chet said on the monitor, “We may be able to help with that. One of our analysts found a sketched map online.”

“What?” General Creek asked, incredulous.

“Yeah, it turns out people like to explore old mines. Lots of groups on the West Coast. My girl..er…analyst found a Mexican group with the same hobby. They’ve apparently been in the old mine. I’m sending it your way now,” Chet said.

I was pretty sure Telzey was the unnamed analyst, mostly by the possessive way Chet had spoken. Might be a little crush going on there.

A second later another image popped up, this an obviously hand drawn map with hyperlinks that opened photos of the mine.

“Hmm, this is….really pretty good,” the General said.

The map had spacing marked, in meters, detailing the distance between all major features, which was a real help and the photos gave a good idea of conditions in the mine, which appeared to be quite wet.

“Nice holographic projection table, General,” Chet commented.

“Aikens, you are a menace. I shouldn’t even let you glimpse it.”

“Relax, Sir. The Coven owns the company that built yours. The one we have is the next generation higher, a prototype,” Chet said with a smug grin.

“General?” Tanya interrupted before Chet could really antagonize Creek. “Would you click on the hyperlink marked ‘note one’, please.”

The General tapped the image on the appropriate icon on the map, which was at the end of a side tunnel. The link opened a photo and text description.

“From what this says, the explorers snuck into the mine through an old waste tunnel on the backside of the mountain. Apparently, the Colonel had a tunnel blasted out the back and rails laid for removing waste rock. That tunnel was only used for a short period then abandoned. The mine hobbyists found the opening which they describe as mostly closed in and managed to squirm into the mine. The main entrance was located too close to the pit mine which still had security around it,” she said. The sound of her voice threatened to destroy my focus on the planning and she immediately felt that through our bond. She gave me a pay attention look.

“Unless they’re complete idiots, they’ll have mined that entrance,” one of Creek’s aides said.

“Ah but we have our own answer to explosives don’t we Christian?” Tanya answered.

“Yeah, that shouldn’t pose too much of a problem. What about security around the outside of the mine and on the mountain?” I asked.

Another aide automatically brought up the satellite view, dialing the thermal down to the point where we could see the white hot dots representing individual Lokis moving and hiding around the mountain. Several much cooler shaded dots were also moving with some of the Lokis.

“Who or what are those?” Creek asked.

“Vampires from a Mexican branch of the Coven who have chosen to side with the Spawn, General,” Tanya answered in a cold voice. “We will be removing them as well.”

Creek raised both eyebrows as he took in her lethal tone.

“Any idea where they would hold hostages?”Gina asked the group at large.

The mine map expanded to take up the whole table top. Chet spoke up.

“I’ve been thinking about that, Gina. It’s basically a set of tunnels carved more or less along a flat path into the mountain. But it does vary up or down by as much as ten feet. Further back in the mine, the explorer group mentioned that the tunnel rises up and levels off along a hundred meter straight line. This apparently became a central landing point for the ore that was mined. There are eleven small side passages or maybe you could call them rooms, all along this part.”

He remotely zoomed in the section in question, causing the two aides to look up in anger and consternation at his ability to take control of their map. For his part, Chet just simply smiled and then opened a linked photo and comment box, which showed the corridor in question in pretty good detail.

“It appears that this central point is drier than most of the tunnels and these rooms would make good cells and headquarters, plus it’s pretty deep into the mountain.”

“Alright, let’s plot this out. Focus people!” the General said, looking at the map.

I focused on Tanya, as she did on me, our personal link active and busy.

Chapter 29

We spent another two hours hashing out the assault plan. During that time the Coven 747 was refueled and made ready for the Arizona. Planning done, Gina and I headed over to Reagan Airport, a DHS agent giving us a ride.

Once we boarded the giant plane, the air crew closed up the aircraft door and we rolled out of the hanger. I cleared the doorway of the plane and found Tanya right in front of me, a determined look on her face to match the resolve the bond told me was in her heart.

“I’m going with you, Christian!” she declared.

“I know,” I answered. My own emotion was probably reading as resolve to her, but she didn’t know what that resolve was. “I think we might do rather well as a team, don’t you?”

I had surprised her, but after a pause, she nodded and smiled. “Oh yeah, we should be absolutely perfect as a team.”

We’ve never really fought side by side, the circumstances never falling into place. We had sparred against each other, but that had eventually ceased as our bond made it impossible for either of us to get an advantage. I was thinking that same link would make us a really tough team to beat.

“Hey Chris, did you see those Pentagon weenies’ faces when I took over their table?” Chet’s voice said from behind me.

“Yeah, that rocked their world. Bet they’ve got IT people swarming over everything trying to block your access. Listen, I’ve got a thumbdrive that I want to look at,” I said, tossing him the flashdrive.

“Yeah, let’s plug it in at my station,” he said, waving for me to follow. I grabbed Tanya’s hand and towed her after me, glancing at her gorgeous blue eyes and smooth white skin every few steps. There was the slightest pink outline of the silver burn on her otherwise perfect skin, but no other sign she had been hideously burned.

The plane was massive, and laid out with offices and rooms instead of rows of seats, at least in the front of the plane. Chet stepped into a large room in the center of the fuselage where another computer modeling table stood. He jacked the thumbdrive into a USB port and opened it.

“One file, titled ‘Brutal Asset’,” he said, a holographic image of an operating system window opening in front of us. He waved his hand at the file and it opened.

My photo stared back at us, just under the title ‘Project Brutal Asset’. After that was a physical description and a biographical history of my life. Education, work experience, and complete police reports from my family’s murder. Pictures of my grandfather and grandmother, high school photos of me wrestling and playing football, NYPD Academy graduation and even shots of me in Vermont with Agent Duclair and Gina, all swam by as Chet waved his hand through the images.

There was a section titled subject evaluation.

Subject asset is defined by the trauma of his childhood. The only survivor of a home invasion and family homicide, he is essentially a loner, having spent much of his formative years ostracized both by peers and by his own choice. Paranormal abilities may have manifested at the onset of puberty. Extremely strong ability to expel extra dimensional entities has been observed by many credible witnesses. Subject was raised by his paternal grandfather(see bio), who supported and fostered the exorcism activity. Subsequently, asset has been trained in multiple disciplines of close quarters combat with and without weapons, and is skilled in wilderness survival, tracking, emergency medical techniques and mountaineering. NYPD Academy selection criteria indicates placement in top quartile of candidates. Scholastic scores were high across all subjects and aptitude tests indicated high adaptability coupled with a flexible world view, as well as strong comprehension and problem solving abilities. Subject is deficient in emotional intelligence and may have stunted social skills as a result of adolescent isolation. Strongly independent, but capable of team work interaction. Asset Gordon is driven by extreme anger, directed at both extra-dimensional entities and internally as a form of self-hatred.

Recent introduction to hemivore and lycanthrope societies produced a dramatic transformation of asset’s physical and paranormal capabilities. Subject has demonstrated physical strength and speed far in excess of standard human ranges as well as enhanced senses. At least on par with average specimens of both hemivore and lycanthrope races. Does not display any aversion to argent compounds (silver) or to sunlight. Massively accelerated metabolism has been demonstrated by fuel intake in the eight to ten thousand calorie range (potential weakness, see note 1). Never observed ingesting human hemoglobin. While physical attributes have been documented, paranormal abilities remain conjecture. The following observations have been made:

Apparent ability to render ammunition inert, may extend to other compounds as well (i.e. explosives),

Ability to affect distance targets in various manners, including displays of kinetic energy, dissolution of solid objects, and interference with complex electronics (i.e. hardened military avionics),

Enormous output of quantum particles observed at times of asset’s displays,

Enhanced ability to banish extra-dimensional entities,

In addition, subject is potentially in contact and allied with an advanced extra-dimensional entity of strategically important power. Observed manifesting in an ursine form, said entity displayed abilities to penetrate secure facilities and inflict damage on scale with large air-delivered ordinance. Bear form was four to five times larger than any existing terrestrial land carnivore.

(see note 2 – minor class god entities).

Intelligence provided by anomalous resources imply a weakness with regard to depleted uranium delivered using specific methodology. Operation Hostile Takeover utilized six Praetorian grade operatives against Brutal Asset, with weaponized DU. Objectives included acquisition of asset, determination of DU effectiveness, and determination of Praetorian effectiveness against asset.

Embedded video was recorded on high speed, high definition full spectrum camera. Results were as follows: Asset devastated all Praetorian grade operatives along with two vehicles in under two seconds; acquisition and containment unlikely with current techniques,; DU as weapon against asset inconclusive. Video is inconclusive, as asset’s speeds exceeded recording equipment capabilities.

A black video box had been inserted and when Chet flicked his hand over and clicked on the play symbol, a high quality picture opened of Toni and me walking home from her school. The video was taken from maybe the second floor of a building across the street and at a slight diagonal to the two of us. The female jogger appeared, stumbled against me, while the blue Toyota Four-runner screeched to a halt. After that the picture got garbled as Toni and I disappeared in a blur, the SUV exploded, and the operatives on the street met blurry demises.

Conclusion: Brutal Asset remains top acquisition objective, preferably intact and alive. Alternative post humus collection is second tier objective should all other attempts fail. Potential opportunities include subject’s attachment to the child in the video, Antonia Velasquez, as well as parent. Attempts at access through hemivore and lycanthrope organizations has exceedingly low probability of success.

The file ended there, with no names of authors, organizations or other identifiable information.

Chet spun around and looked at me and Gina (who was standing behind me). Gina’s face was bleak, her eyes wide and suddenly wet looking. Tanya spoke first, her voice loud enough to make Gina jump.

“Mr. Deckert?” she said, directing her voice toward the next room past Chet’s area. Deckert’s crew cut wearing face popped into the doorway. “Yes, Ms. Demidova?” he asked. Deckert wasn’t all hung up on the whole Queen thing.

“Are your men still watching Gina’s family?”

“Yes ma’am. During the daytime a squad of four is on Roy and Antonia Velasquez at all times. At night another four person squad of Darkkin is on duty.”

Gina has one of the best poker faces I’ve ever seen, but this was one time when it failed her. She was openly astonished as she turned to look a Tanya.

“You didn’t think I would leave your family unprotected after that attack, did you?” Tanya asked. Lydia, looking very sleepy, roused herself from the corner of the room where she had watched the video and gave Gina a little hug. “It’s not happening, Gina, so forget about it. Arkady personally told both teams to kill anything that attempts to harm your family.”

Lydia turned her pixie face in my direction. “You, on the other hand, appear to have some secret admirers.”

“You know, some of those pictures in Vermont had to have been taken by someone on Duclair’s team or even Duclair herself. Maybe she’s our best lead,” I observed.

“Already on it!” Chet said. “Ever since I saw that request by General Creek my antenna has been up. I have a number of search programs looking for information, crawling all over the web.”

“What’s the whole ‘deficient in emotional intelligence’ bit, anyway?” I asked.

Lydia patted my shoulder. “It’s a very nice way of saying that you’re dumber than a box of rocks when it comes to other people’s feelings,” she said. I gave her a hurt look and she just shrugged. “Just saying!”

“They know a lot about me,” I said, dismayed at the depth of the knowledge displayed.

Tanya snorted. We all looked her way. “Not so much. They don’t mention Kirby, or the Packs, or your body blades that you make or our bond or your ability to heal, or the Tear of God!” she said, ticking points off on the ruby red fingernails of her left hand.

“So….who the hell wrote this? What are Praetorian operatives? And where did you get it?” Lydia asked, then yawned.

I explained about Director Nathan Stewart and his wereverine assistant. Gina added her own observations.

“I’ll see what I can find out about this Stewart dude and his…assistant,” Chet said, immediately waving hands at his computer interface.

“Were wolverines are very rare and really, really tough!” Lydia said. She had a lot of contacts in the were world, in fact most of her romantic encounters occurred in that society.

“I’ll see what my contacts know of her,” she said, popping a Bluetooth earpiece in place. Tanya and I headed to the plane’s galley for a snack for me. After that we figured to get her a snack from me.

Chapter 30

Davis-Monthan Airforce base is located just outside of Tucson. The Coven 747 touched down just after dark, and was again guided to a hanger big enough to shield it from both the sun and any prying eyes that had access to satellites. Lydia had explained that the Mexican vampires had had full use of Coven resources which included a rather staggering number of commercial satellites.

From there we, which included Tanya, Lydia, Arkady and a large number of security folks from both species, loaded into the Rig, which General Creek had ordered flown across the state by C5 cargo jet. Immediately heading South, we finalized the attack plans and went over our individual gear. Mine came out of the locker I kept aboard the Rig. Black battledress pants, steel toed boots, fitted performance tee shirt (also black) and combat vest with attached gunbelt. My twin thigh holsters held Glock model 20s with extended twenty round magazines. The model 20 looks like a Glock 9mm model 17 on steroids, the frame beefed up to handle the higher operating pressures of the much more powerful 10mm round. The pistols were stock, except for the addition of new rear slide back plates made by a company called FSSG. The plates were, in fact, selector switches which turned my semi-autos into full auto machine pistols at the twitch of a finger. Not something I used a lot, but a nice option, especially if you found yourself in a tight spot...a tight, furry, toothy kinda spot.

I added the contents of the bundle I had snagged from my tiny corner of Tanya's cavernous closet. Two silver darts and a silver plated bowie knife sheathed in kydex thermoplastic. All from the night I first met Tanya. I hadn't used them during my summer hunts, the mono edges on my hands, arms and feet being vastly more effective, but my introduction to the wonders of depleted uranium and its effects on my aura suddenly made backup weapons look like a really good idea. The darts went into ballistic nylon pouches that were originally designed for expandable batons. The kydex sheath of the bowie used military MOLLE clips to attach to the back of my vest, secure but reachable with either hand. After that I loaded spare mags of ammo (lots and lots of those), filled the built-in hydration pack with water and packed my pockets with hi-energy food. Then I chowed down while watching Tanya gear up. She had a skin tight black catsuit that looked like a combination of spandex and some flat black carbon fiber material, her twin tungsten carbide swords sheathed crosswise on her back and a series of double-ended throwing spikes holstered on thigh platforms. The spikes were really cool, solid silver coated with a protective black latex that let her handle them with bare skin, but peeled away from the points when thrown through skin or hide.

The suit fit her it was painted on, an effect I greatly admired. She caught me ogling her and gave me a cool smirk. Somehow I dragged my attention away from the more interesting portions of her anatomy to notice the bulges on both forearms under the black material. That told me she was wearing her tungsten bracelets, which let her block just about any edged weapon with her arms.

The rest of the team was gearing up as well, each with his or her own preference for weapons and gear. The older vampires favored edged weapons, many with silvered edges, while the humans and younger vamps leaned more toward firearms. Most of Deckert's men were packing AA-12 full automatic shotguns, each gun loaded with thirty-two silver flechette 12 gauge shotgun shells, packed in a round drum. The guns were able to fire at 300 rounds per minute, but had almost no recoil thanks to an ingeniously simple, but effective extra long bolt and recoil spring setup. Made from mostly stainless steel, the AA-12 is simple to use and extremely reliable, as well as devastatingly effective. Each man also carried a smaller twenty round drum of FRAG-12 high explosive anti-personnel rounds that had been modified from the original steel casing to one made of silver. The rounds armed themselves at three meters from the muzzle and had a range in excess of 150 meters. Nice little addition to the mix. For places where they might need a little bang, but three meters wasn't possible, each security team member also carried a pair of modified flash-bangs that were loaded with silver nitrate. These would be almost as dangerous to the vampires in the group as to the Lokis. The humans got fourth generation night vision goggles, the rest of us already rigged for seeing in the dark. The Rig's driver spoke over the intercom, telling us that we were crossing the border into Mexico, the crossing point being conveniently unguarded by Mexican police. Whether that was the result of a diplomatic request or a well placed bribe I didn’t know, but the effect was the same. As none of the people on board, with the exception of the driver and Mary Alice, were US personnel, we were deniable by the US government.

Mary Alice was busy dispensing last minute gear and supplies that team members had forgotten for one reason or another. Her ability to supply even the oddest tactical item was noticed by the team, who quickly made a game of trying to stump her. One of Deckert's men asked for Silly String and she blandly opened a cardboard box and set six canisters of the party favorite, each in a different color, which wiped the smug smile off his face. “Please, Silly String? I get it by the case! I recommend the glow in the dark colors myself. It'll show those trip wires in deep darkness,” she said.

The explosives and point guys used the spray cans to locate boobytrap wires without setting off the trap.

“How about a Maratec mini grapple?” another ex-military type asked, more interested than smug.

Five seconds later she dropped two different sized mini grappling hooks into his hands. He chose the smaller, as well as a spool of superstrong Spectra thread she produced to tie to the hook. “You spray 'em, I'll hook 'em!” he said to the Silly string guy.

I used the distraction to move off by myself and test my left hand’s mono-blade. Better, but still a stuttering ripple, not yet fully dependable. I turned back to the room and found my vampire watching me with raised eyebrows. I shrugged, then raised my left hand, palm down and wobbled it side to side. She nodded and turned back to Lydia who was prepping communication headsets.

Chapter 31

The Rig came to a stop about eleven miles from the back of the mountain the Cananea mine occupied. A second, almost identical truck stopped behind us, its back doors folding down like a drawbridge revealing three columns of ATVs lined up inside. A couple of Creek’s men started bringing them out for the Coven security people to claim, one by one. Within minutes we were all mounted up and riding a dried up old road that passed within a mile and a half of the mine. None of the ATVs had any lights and even the brake lights had been disabled. Thirty-seven minutes of hard riding brought us to a small arroyo, which dipped low enough to hide all our rides. From here it was all on foot, although one team continued down the road to another staging point, which would bring them around the Southern flank of the mountain. Another small group had stopped earlier and proceeded on foot to flank from the North side. Each team had a sniper who was carrying a .50 caliber Barrett M82 anti-material rifle. Anti-material means the heavy John Browning designed machine gun round can be used to knock out trucks, cars, and even lightly armored vehicles. It goes without saying that it’ll do a hell of a job on anything that walks the planet. These rifles were packing ounce and a half silver-filled bullets that exited the muzzle with over six tons of muzzle energy and could introduce a were’s insides to the outside. The two flanking teams had all of the human security forces split between them, which allowed our group to proceed at vampire speeds over the uneven ground.

We slowed at the half mile mark, choosing stealth over speed in anticipation of roving patrols. Oddly there were none, a fact that bothered me and from the concerned expressions around me, bothered the military trained security vamps as well. A scout suddenly froze ahead of us, then blurred back to our position, still predator silent.

“They have Samsung SGRs!” he whispered to Tanya, Arkady and myself.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Stationary robotic sentries,” Arkady answered in his thick accent. “Equipped with thermal, infrared, and sonic sensors. Is it armed?”

The scout nodded. “At a glance, I’d say an FN 249,” he replied, referring to the Belgian made general purpose machine gun used around the world.

“How do we get around it?” I asked. Nobody answered right away, which was cause for worry. With a bankroll greater than many nations’ entire defense budgets, the Coven security forces had the best training, equipment and weapons that money could buy. If they were stumped then it was a real problem.

A slight shuffling noise two hundred yards to the South of us caught all our attentions. Three vamps peeled off and blurred silently into the night. A moment later one of them spoke over the headsets. “Incoming with prisoner.”

A slow minute went by then a soft step could be heard, paced by almost ghost quiet vampire guards. The man who stepped into our clearing was old and weathered, and not at all Mexican. His flat black eyes scanned our group, then locked onto me in recognition. I was shocked. The old man who approached, surrounded by vampires ready to kill was Ahiga Nakai, grandfather to Tami and Ben Keonie, and most likely a black magic Navajo witch.

Nakai stopped on his own fifteen feet away from us, but the Darkkin behind shoved him forward till the distance was down to ten.

“Found him in a pretty good sniper’s hide one hundred and fifty meters that way. No weapons, just some bones, feathers and jars of sand,” the vamp reported.

“Those are his weapons,” I said, then addressed the poisonous old man. “Mr. Nakai, what brings you out here?”

He said nothing for a moment, then finally answered.

“I hunt those who took my grandchildren,” he said in a flat tone.

“Yeah? ‘Cause so do we,” I said.

He looked us over, then looked toward the little rise which hid the robotic sentry. His heartbeat, which had been pounding fast in the immediate presence of the vampires, began to slow and a calculating look came into his eyes.

“The machine has slowed your advance?” he asked, with a head nod toward the robot.

“Yeah, for the moment,” I said.

“The ones who wear animal form have slowed mine, but the machine is no problem. I can confuse it….make it ignore you. If I do, can you kill the shifters? Like you did with the ones who held Tami and Ben?” he asked.

“That’s what I do…what we do. But tell me – how can you blind the robot?” I asked.

“That’s what I do…change how things are seen!” he said with a quiet strength.

The vampires all looked at me like I was crazy. “I think he can do it, and while I don’t think Mr. Nakai is our best friend, he is the enemy of our enemy,” I stated. The old man nodded at my words.

Arkady scratched his head, then gave a nod of agreement. “We will try,” he allowed in a thickly accented whisper.

We moved as a group up the rise, Mr. Nakai now holding the bones, feathers and other paraphernalia of his craft, which one of the vamps had retrieved at a speed that widened the old witch’s eyes.

Peering just over the top of the small hillock we could see the squat metal form of the fixed position robot, which scanned the area in front of it in a steady arc. It was moving back and forth fast enough that even vampire speed wasn’t going to get us by without at least triggering an alarm. Given time we could have figured a way to bypass it, but time was short and Nakai was here. The old witch started to chant in a low voice, just barely audible to our enhanced hearing and therefore not loud enough to trigger the comparable sensors of the sentry. I presumed he was speaking Navajo, the sounds flowing in liquid tones from his bowed head. His voice began to rise, enough that it should have tripped the robot, but the machine kept scanning its arc without pause. Nakai’s voice stopped and he lifted his head, his eyes first looking at the robot then turning to me with a triumphant gleam. “It is done,” he said in normal tones.

I looked at the robot with my Sight, seeing that it was now wrapped in the flat black shadowy gauze of the witch’s spell.

“I think he did it!” I said, starting forward to test it. Both Arkady and Tanya each grabbed an arm, freezing me in place. When I glanced at them, Arkady just nodded at one of his guys, who immediately took off. The fleet-footed vampire shot right past the robot which never paused in its scanning.

Arkady snorted softly, then nodded at more of his men to move forward. I turned to Nakai, who was watching my reaction with equal parts smugness and wary caution. “Thanks,” I said, then asked a question. “You have any idea if weres could breed with witches?”

His eyes widened slightly, and he gave a sharp little nod. “Possibly, very tricky to accomplish, but possible.”

Tanya, Arkady and I were the only ones left, so after one last glance at the old Navajo witch, we darted through the scrubby brush, past the sentry, and up to the back of the mountain.

Chapter 32

The debris field below the mine’s rear waste-exit was overgrown with vegetation, the plants well watered from a trickle that flowed out of the mountain. The Darkkin scout had taken down a negligent Spawn sentry, who had felt secure enough to smoke a cigarette in the darkness. Twisted rail sections poked out of a tangle of greenery, marking the hidden entrance where mine cars of crushed and broken rock had once been rolled out and dumped down the hillside.

“The entrance is small and unused, but the presence of a guard indicates they’re aware of it. It’s most likely been rigged with explosives,” the lead scout reported.

“You fairly certain?” I asked. He shrugged. “That’s what I would do,” was his simple reply.

I moved up close, pooling aura in the center of my body, a spot I visualized two inches below my navel. Cool air oozed out around the leafy green plants, drying the sweat on my hands. One of my big differences with Darkkin is that I sweat and they pretty much don’t – not unless they are engaged in all out combat. But my metabolism and standard body temperature all act more like a were’s than a normal human’s ninety-eight point six or a vampire’s eighty-nine degrees.

I closed my eyes and mentally pushed an arc of aura out from my body, sending into the rocky opening, its frequency tailored to render several of the more likely explosive compounds inert. Then drawing a deep breath, I eased forward, through the plants and into the tight crevice of rock that was slashed into the mountain. My mind hummed with the strength of my link to Tanya, and I knew without looking how she stood, how she moved and where she was.

The original opening had to have been much bigger, but nature had weakened the archway’s stone, causing it to crack and shift, sealing much of the tunnel entrance shut. With just a small amount of squirming I was able to slide through, Tanya right behind me, her smaller frame having much less trouble. Six feet into the dark tunnel and my eyes met the curved plastic shell of a Claymore mine, its detonator linked to a battery powered motion detector which was glowing the bright red color of a tripped sensor. The mine was fastened at chest height on the tunnel wall ahead of me. The fact that it hadn’t exploded told me my aura burst had worked.

Without a word I reached over my left shoulder and Tanya handed me a can of the fluorescent Silly String, passed up by one of the Darrkin soldiers. The tunnel opened up, wider, the floor muddy with a thin line of water oozing out from deeper inside the mountain. Reddish, orange sludge almost covered the twin rail tracks that led into the mine. I paused to squirt some liquid string ahead, but it simply fell to the soggy ground. Moving forward to make room, I continued to send little streamers of glowing goo into the dark. Suddenly a single strand abruptly suspended itself in midair, eight inches above the muddy floor. A gossamer thin strand of monofilament had caught the glowing green tendril and my eyes could now follow it back to a nasty looking grenade that was duct taped to a wooden support beam, just beyond the range of my aura burst.

I could feel Tanya sense what I had spotted, and knew when she signaled one of the bomb experts to move up, all without looking at her. We had never been connected to this degree before, except maybe during sex, which was obviously different. It was like we were two parts of one person.

The ordinance expert ghosted to the grenade, settling in a graceful crouch to disarm it. With fast expert motions, he rendered the trap inert.

The cool, moist air moving past us changed odor abruptly, but by the time the scent of were had registered in my brain, the werewolf had slammed into the bomb guy, the four hundred pound monster shooting out of the darkness like it was rocket propelled. The Spawn bit down to crush the Darkkin’s shoulder, but its bear trap jaws froze solid, held by Tanya’s unmovable grip. She hadn’t been caught off-guard like I was and her blindingly fast move had saved the explosive guy. She had one hand on the lower jaw and one on the upper snout, so when her slim arms twitched the Spawn’s jawbone ripped right off its skull.

I knew all of that without looking at her – I was busy staring at the death rush of a were cougar the size of an African lion, its plate-sized paws spread apart, claws out to hook me back into the gaping maw of killing teeth. Grim slid into control, instantly, without any pause, and I stepped into the charge, ignored the meathooks that ripped into my shoulders, instead putting all of my focus on punching my right Hardened fist completely through its watermelon sized head. Gripping its neck with my left hand, I Posted my body and absorbed the rush of the wolf-man charging behind the cougar, using the giant cat’s body as a shield. Brain dead instantly, the mountain lion’s back feet kicked in an automatic death reflex, the claws out to disembowel its own killer. The wolf in beast-man form caught the cougar’s claws in its belly, the three inch claws slicing open the muscled abdomen and the wolf’s intestines fell out. The wound would have killed a normal animal, but not a were. Slipping in its own bowels, it fought to get at me, tearing at the dead cat in my grip. It stopped when my mono-edged right hand speared through the cougar’s chest and into the wolfman’s sternum, slicing the huge heart into multiple chunks. That wound was fatal, even to the supernatural vitality of the were.

I felt and saw Tanya flow past me, feeling the additional air moved by her whirling tungsten swords. The headset was suddenly full of chatter, background gunshots reaching my ears both through the earpiece and then a moment later through the tunnel. Part of me noted Arkady’s voice commenting that the motion detector had sent a signal ahead to the Spawn, even as the bomb failed to explode. Part of me listened to the flanking teams calm discussion as their snipers fired heavy .50 caliber rounds that could punch lengthwise through a bull elephant, the gunshots making a heavy deep crump sound. Full auto shotgun reports sounded as other parts of the flanking teams opened fire, spraying the weres at the front of the mine with silver flechette rounds and FRAG-12 grenades. All of this I noted distantly even as I raced through the tunnel next to Tanya, my Glocks in hand. My sonar sense told both of us that a mix of Spawn were just ahead and then we were at an intersection that rippled with muscled fur.

If I was effective at killing monsters on my own, then the two of us as a team took it to an Olympic level. We each knew what the other saw, heard, did or was going to do, completely.

The result was a flowing, liquid duet of death that eliminated fifteen hardened weres in three point two seconds. Her sword in that wolf’s neck, my shot through that bear’s brainstem, my crouch, her swing overhead, my shot under her arm, her sword stuck in a chest, my sidekick to the same chest freeing her sword to clip the head off a beast-man while my 10mm silver filled rounds punched a cougar through hips, chest, neck and skull.

We were through and on before Arkady and his troops even caught up. As one we turned away from the left hand tunnel that led to the open mine and the firefight there. Running at full speed into the right side took us up a slight rise in the floor of the tunnel and then around a corner into a long open passage that was big enough to park the Rig in. Eleven doorways lined both sides and I knew we were in the dry section of the tunnel, the part most likely to hold the prisoners.

Twenty-eight Spawn of various species were in the process of changing or arming when we hit them. Six in human form were gathering up heavy weapons but moving slow like cold oatmeal as I opened up with both Glocks. I triple tapped all six human-form Lokis, each getting two rounds to the chest and one in the head. My internal clock told me I did it in four one hundredths of a second. In that same time, Tanya’s blades had chopped apart two wolves and a grizzly-sized werebear.

I jumped over the bear’s head as it skittered by me, dumping the last twelve rounds in each pistol into the cluster of weres moving through the room, dropping two cougars, a black bear and five wolves. A spotted were-cat that part of my brain identified as a were-jaguar sprang from my left side as I was dropping the empty magazines from my guns. I didn’t bother to duck, instead concentrating on reloading first one, then the other Glock. The springing jaguar jerked its head back toward its side in mid leap, trying to bite at the silver spike that had appeared, embedded in its hip. Another spike materialized in its neck as I stepped forward a half pace, letting the dead jag slam into the corridor wall. My bride appeared by my side, a throwing spike in one hand and a tungsten sword in the other. She was streaked with blood, and fully vamped out. Normally this meant her amazing blue eyes would be galaxy black from rim to rim, but they were instead orbs of silver, their surfaces like mirrors. Still in Grim mode, I didn’t acknowledge the change, but deep inside me, a small part realized what Chet had been referring to on the phone.

My image reflected in her eyes was just as gore spattered, but there was more where that came from. Three more wolves were down and dead or dying, silver spikes poking out of important parts of their anatomy. The last seven were split between trying to get away from the death storm that had struck and trying to stop it. Silver tipped 10mm rounds finished six of them and a silver spike took the last between the eyes, pinning the black bear sized wolfman to the cavern wall.

Arkady arrived just as the last died, his troops just behind him. He looked from the gory carnage to the pair of us standing still in the center of the long tunnel and shook his big head.

“You are not leaving any for others, my Queen,” he admonished, although his expression was one of awe.

Still in kill mode, she simply shrugged and then started to retrieve spikes where she could.

“There are a whole lotta heartbeats behind these doors,” I said, my voice rough. Lydia was just entering the room, her eyes wide as she took in the damage, but she heard my words and started organizing Darkkin into checking each side chamber. She still managed to utter a wisecrack, “Nice decorating job!” as she stepped over a puddle of gore.

Very quickly frightened, disheveled teenage girls were herded out of the prison cells, along with a number of other humans. One group was definitely the hostages from the mining town, but several others had been there longer and when I scanned them with my Sight I could see the flat black of witch power streaking their auras. Lydia and one of the female security troops took charge of the girls, gathering them in a protected, relatively gore free corner of the tunnel. My attention was caught by a trooper who suddenly shot backwards out from the oversized doorway he had been investigating. I was at his side before he stopped moving, but I realized at some level that his fast exit was unneeded as the sight that had startled him was not immediately dangerous. The over large door led to a chamber almost three times larger than the cells the girls had occupied, and just beyond the doorway a wall of wrist thick steel bars partitioned the room. The giant cage held a huge brown furred form, lying on its side, breathing laboriously, its form centered in the middle of a pentagram drawn on the floor in gray, ash-colored powder. The points of the pentagram were marked with ugly black candles, each the size of a two liter bottle of soda. My nose identified the scent of brown bear, female and pregnant. By her size she must have been a Kodiak, massing over a thousand pounds. She was pure bear, not were, and in obvious distress, her nostrils sputtering mucus as she tried to breathe.

“She’s in labor,” one of the troopers said, his voice confused.

I looked at him in question and he answered immediately. “Before I was Darkkin I was a zookeeper. That bear is in labor!”

“I thought they gave birth to tiny palm sized cubs during hibernation?” I asked.

“They do, but she’s not!” he said, his voice certain. “I’ve seen too many animals in labor not to recognize the signs or the fact that something is wrong in this case.”

Making up my mind in an instant, I sliced the padlock on the bolted door off with my mono-edged right hand and open the cell. The floor was a mess of feces and half-rotted food. The ex-zookeeper entered right on my heels and carefully squatted down to exam the bear from a few feet away.

“Her stomach is distended, it shouldn’t be that big from a pregnancy,” he noted.

I looked at her with my Sight. Her aura was solid green, the normal color of animals, but deep in her middle, just visible under her weakened green, was a bundle of green and red that squirmed inside her.

“I don’t think her cub is natural,” I said. Lydia suddenly poked her head into the room, spotted me and waved me over. “Chris, I’ve been talking to the girls who have been here longer. I think they’re being used as part of some twisted breeding program,” she said, her gaze suddenly arrested by the bear in the pentagram.

“Whoa! You don't see that every day!” she said, then she grabbed the front of my vest and tugged.

“Come on! You gotta see the cells where they were keeping the girls!”

Dragged into the main tunnel, I heard Arkady directing clean up of the weres in the front of the complex. It sounded like they were being driven back into the mine, right into the muzzles of the bulk of Arkady's men.

Lydia dragged me into an empty cell and pointed at the pentagram scribed into the cell floor with what looked to be blood.

“They raped the girls in the middle of that pentagram, during some kind of ceremony, for what God only knows!” she said, intensely angry.

I looked at the candle tipped pentagram and spoke my thoughts. “I think they were trying to breed weres with witch powers. Most of the girls that didn't come from Santa Diablo are witches, just like the children I rescued in New Mexico.”

Her eyes got wide, but it was Tanya who spoke from the doorway. “That would be bad!”

The silver was gone from her eyes, the rich, almost electric blue back in place.

“So if they were breeding witch weres, what were they doing with the Kodiak?” Lydia asked.

“Breeding something else....” I said.

The death scream of one of the vampires interrupted our musing.

Moving at full speed, we made it into the corridor in time to see the unfortunate Darkkin, his torso crushed in the jaws of a monster canine head, get yanked seemingly into the solid stone at the end of the corridor. I was at the wall even as his feet slipped out of sight, pulled into a crevice that wasn't apparent until you were right up close to it. The rock was rough hewn and the entrance went back at an angle, allowing the gap to go unnoticed. Grabbing a foot that was still kicking, I was yanked through, and thrown into another wall. An explosion roared ten feet behind of me and the world went black for a few nanoseconds as the shockwave hit me.

Chapter 33

The roar of tons of falling rock settled back to a low rumble. The cavern was pitch black, the air filled with rock dust. My sonar sense, if you want to call it that, told me the passage I had come through was sealed, the smell of expended nitro-based blasting mix told me how. My link to Tanya was pinging with rage and worry, but she knew I was alive, just as I knew she was hammering at the fallen stone and rock with her carbide swords. I sent her calming thoughts, while trying to figure out my situation.

As the dust thinned enough to get more bearings, I realized that I had company. The sound of thin glass breaking penetrated the noise of the settling rock behind me, and a bluish-white glow lit the chamber, as an industrial sized glow stick was shaken into full light. The man holding it was big, close to seven feet tall, with wide shoulders and heavy features. Intense black eyes studied me from a wide, thick-browed face that was framed in a black beard. That's about all I could determine, as my attention was mainly on the crunching sounds to his left, where an oil drum sized head was chewing the thoroughly dead remains of the vampire soldier. A leg fell to the floor, the sound of it hitting the rock causing the giant wolf head to perk its ears and pause its meal as it looked down to note where part of the meal landed. It was such a natural canine movement that it almost made me laugh – almost – the fact it was a leg of one of my fellow team members ensured that I didn't. The big man with the light followed my glance and facial expressions intently, then broke into a big grin. Oddly, it was a genuine smile, big, white, even teeth. Matched to the gruesome scene next to him, it was decidedly creepy, even if I had felt a glimmer of amusement at the wolf's actions.

“You like Fenrir?” the giant asked, his voice deep and matching his appearance.

The huge wolf looked up when he spoke its name, then lost interest and went back to scrounging the dropped leg. It was one of the largest animals I've ever seen, its back and shoulders a couple of inches higher than the man's head. At least twelve feet long, it looked every bit as big as Okwari, maybe a little taller at the shoulder.

I found my voice after a moment of hunting around in the mass confusion of my head. “Ah, did you call it Fenrir?” I asked.

His smile widened and he nodded. “Yes, as in Loki's son, Fenrir!” he said with a fond glance at the monster. At the word 'Loki' the wolf looked up and this time ignored its meal. Its predatory gaze focused on me and a deep bass growl shook the stone around us.

“I'm afraid that he doesn't like you, Malahidael,” the big man said. “I'll go out on a limb and predict that he doesn't like Lailah, either,” he continued with a laugh.

“I don't know who Lailah or Malahidael are, but I'm neither of them,” I said, wondering at his sanity.

“You really don't know, do you? Amazing!” he laughed again, the sound of it beginning to grate on my nerves.

“You're El Bestia!” I decided.

He laughed again, thoroughly amused in a manner that marked his own superiority at the same time it mocked me.

“That's the best you can name me, Malahidael? Really?” he chuckled, really starting to get under my skin.

“Tell you what....seeing as how you've crippled your own memories, Malahidael, I'll give you a little something before I let Fenrir finish his dinner with you. The name you want to apply to me is Ahraman.”

I took the time to look him over with the Sight, glancing at the wolf monster as well. His outer aura was green and blue of were, but underneath it was the solid greasy black cesspool of demon essence.

A demon in control of a were’s body. I was so shocked I barely paid attention to the wolf, although I wasn't happy to note the wolf's aura was green, red, and purple, much like Okwari's. My stupid inability to control my expressions gave me away again, as Ahraman read my despair easily. His laugh made me angry all over again, my Grim side pushing for more control.

Rather than relinquish to Grim, I hurriedly scrounged through everything I could remember about Fenrir. Born to Loki, the Trickster, who was himself, brother to Odin. Fenrir had scared the gods as he was prophesied to kill Odin at Ragnorak. It didn’t seem possible that the creature in front of me could be the mythical Fenrir or Fenris as he was sometimes called. But his aura was similar enough to Okwari’s to mark him in the elder god zone. On the other side of the problem, I didn’t recognize the name Ahraman, although it had a decidedly demonic ring to it.

“I would love to meet both you and Lailah at the same time, but it didn’t seem prudent, not after you two demonstrated just how well you fight together,” the demon said.

So Tanya was Lailah and I was Malahidael, whoever they were supposed to be. Right now I had to concentrate on living long enough to have the spare time to research those names.

The cavern we were in was big, its appearance leading me to believe it was a natural formation. Stalactites hung from the ceiling and huge up-thrusting stalagmites formed a forest of limestone. Behind me I could hear that the sword strikes had stopped, but I sensed Tanya’s determination. Then I heard a new sound, a thrumming tone like crystal ringing in a small tube. Ahraman and Fenrir both heard it too, the wolf monster whining once at the sound, the demon grimacing.

“Enough, your other half has lost patience with my improvised door. That blasted ability of hers with sound, cuts our time together too close for comfort. Sooo, much as I would love to kill you myself, my plans are too important to risk myself. This form was hard to come by, you know,” he said with a congenial grin, waving at his enormous body. “But that’s why the god killer is here….freed from his bindings. So, goodbye. Fenrir, kill Malahidael – now!” he commanded.

I darted to the back of the cavern, flinging a burst of power from my right hand to attempt to slow the monster down. The color of my bolt was deep purple, chosen by Grim as the best wavelength or pitch or whatever to hurt the god wolf that was slinking my way.

My one fight with Okwari had been before my inoculation of demon blood, and my bright violet aura hadn’t hurt him at all. In fact, it acted like a balm to his wounds. But this deeper, darker color had an effect, it hurt the wolf monster. Hurt him about like a sewing needle would hurt a bear. His roar filled the cave, shaking the stone around us. I put an enormous stalagmite between us, then another, hoping the maneuvering would slow him down. The first tower of limestone simply burst apart as the giant wolf ran right through it. The second faired about as well, quickly reduced to pebbles. I jumped up and over the monster, but Fenrir was as fast as I was, catching my shoulder with a fang that would have made an Allosaurus proud. As I flew sideways, thrown off path by Fenrir’s muzzle slash, I flicked the selectors on both Glocks to full auto and emptied forty rounds into the wolf’s head and neck. Then my back found the rocky wall of the cave and my motion came to an abrupt halt. Clinging with my back, as Tanya had once shown me how to do, I studied the effect of my bullets. Or rather the lack of effect of my bullets. The rounds had entered Fenrir’s body and been absorbed like pebbles dropped into mud. His skin, fur, and in one bullets case, his eye, all flowed around the silver filled copper, leaving the monster unharmed. I bounced to another hanging pinnacle of rock, then one that took me over him, turning sideways in mid-air as he stood on his hind legs, his head reaching almost to the ceiling. My target stalactite exploded into dust as his skull hit it, but I managed to twist sideways and slash his muzzle with a mono-edged hand. That got his attention, as the wound was deep and didn’t heal immediately. I had a minor glimmer of hope, which died when I realized that taking him on with my bladed arms was the equivalent of fighting a grizzly with a five inch hunting knife. Retreating, I found myself backed into a corner, the roof of the cavern too low to let me get over the beast, who was now a mere twenty yards away. Fenrir crouched to spring, Ahraman watching with intent. Oddly, as I watched my death approach, my attention was caught by a swirl of dust on the cavern floor, midway between myself and the wolf.

To my Sight, the swirl became an expanding riot of green, red and purple color, one that expanded into a giant, familiar bear shape. Fenrir paused, his eyes fixed on Okwari’s form, then just before the bear was fully formed, he leaped, his enormous jaws open and aimed at Okwari’s neck. A fully formed paw the size of a trashcan lid smashed into the wolf’s head, flinging it into and through a trio of conical stalagmites. Then my much missed friend charged into the rock dust and closed with Fenrir in a giant, earthshaking furball, that threatened to bring down the cavern roof.

Motion caught my eye, and I swiveled my head to spot Ahraman hastily beating a retreat toward the rear of the cave. Instantly, I was on him, but the demon in a were’s body was just about as fast as I, turning and punching my sternum like a hydraulic ram. My bladed hand caught his side, opening a wound, even as I was flung away like a rag doll. He glared at the wound and then Changed, shifting into a nine-foot tall beast form in less than a second. His clothes exploded off his black furred body as it twisted and rippled into an even larger and more muscle packed form. He roared his own battle cry, which would have been very impressive if it hadn’t been overpowered by the two animal-gods fighting in the center of the cave. I threw a wave of bright violet power at him, the same color I used for exorcising demons, while simultaneously pulling a broken shard of rock behind him that was spiked on one end with my left hand.

The bolt of energy broke over el Bestia’s body in a wavelike manner, hurting him but not stopping him. Likewise the rock spear hit his right leg from behind, the tip bursting through the front of his fur covered thigh. He roared in anger, a sound that penetrated even the unholy bedlam of the fighting animal-gods just beyond us. I closed with the wounded were-demon, but even as I did, he shook off the energy blast and pulled the stone from his leg, the wound healing faster than any were I’ve ever seen.

My left hand jabbed one of my twin silver darts into his upper right arm, while I swiped at his left knee with my mono-bladed right hand. I partially scored with both hits, but received a huge beast foot in the stomach for my efforts, throwing me the full length of the cavern to hit the stone wall behind me. I could feel bones grating in my torso. My ribs were broken in at least three places. Immediately they started to heal, but I knew that Ahraman was both faster and stronger than I. It was the first fight I’ve had since my transformation against an opponent that I didn’t outmatch. For some reason that made my Grim side happy – the challenge of fighting outclassed. Something I had done my whole life!

His leg healed, the silver dart pulled out and thrown away, he started toward me, dodging my second aura blast, ducking the second silver dart I threw at his head. That dart sped past and embedded in a stalagmite immediately behind him. I drew the silver plated bowie and again closed with the unstoppable monster. A massive left hand swung at my midsection, seeking to disembowel me. I sucked my gut, the paw missing, but hitting my bowie and knocking it into the darkness. My right hand sliced his side, but before I could get too deep, he pulled his left arm back and blocked my hand at the wrist. Despite all my vampire energy skills, he managed to slam me to the ground, then pulled back his right hand for a death blow.

A sonic blast shook the cave, the collapsed wall of rock separating Tanya and the others from us blasting inward from the force of her voice. The energy inherent in the sculpted cone of sonic force completely obliterated a basketball sized tunnel of rock. Ahraman turned his massive head in her direction and I made my move – the one I had so carefully set up. I first extended the mono edge up the full length of my right arm, immediately slicing all the fingers of his left hand completely off. Then I Pulled on the embedded silver dart, yanking it free from the limestone pillar with my aura, the heavy spike flying in a spinning blur across the room and impaling the back of his head. He froze, paralyzed by the rod of deadly metal, and I used my last reserves of aura to force his demonic essence up and out, calling to Kirby at the same time. The shadow hawk entered the cavern with a battle cry that even got Fenrir’s attention, the huge claws grabbing the thrashing, struggling black-tar Hellbourne and hauling it back to the depths of hell. The massive greasy demonic shape in Kirby’s claws put up an enormous fight, but the shadow raptor beat wings like car hoods and pulled it out of our realm. Another piercing sonic blast shattered more of the collapsed tunnel wall and then Tanya was there, throwing the hulking, furred corpse off of me with one hand, her other sword-holding hand lopping off the Beast’s head for good measure.

Freed from the body of the Spawn’s leader, I glanced over at the god fight in time to see Okwari’s trap-like jaws slam shut on Fenrir’s lifted throat and crush down with awful, final pressure. The ancient wolf’s death rattle shook the cavern, then the body settled to the stone floor. I hobbled over to my bear, feeling my ribs still knitting themselves back together.

Okwari was lying on the ground, breathing like some enormous bellows. Fenrir’s body shimmered for a moment, then green and red motes of light began to rise up out of his dead form. They came faster and faster, his body shrinking as more Christmas colored lights flickered away. I could feel Tanya’s amazement, which told me she saw them too. More vampires were through the tunnel she had bored with just her voice, moving through the broken rock to check things out.

Okwari’s jaws relaxed their grip on Fenrir’s throat, his lava red eyes cooling to their normal deep brown. He watched me, closely but other than that he didn’t move. Tanya’s hand gesture caught my eye and she silently pointed to the huge pool of blood underneath him where Fenrir’s hind claws had ripped his stomach to shreds. An image of him in his prime, roaring out a victory bellow, popped into my head. “Yeah, you kicked ass, buddy,” I said, gently rubbing the pickle barrel sized head.

Another image pushed into my head, but with less energy than the first. This one was of Okwari and me sitting in Owls Head Park in Brooklyn, watching kids on the playground. The image was vivid enough that you could feel the warmth of the sun, smell the fallen leaves and even taste the crisp air of fall. It was a memory of one of our afternoons at the park, a year ago when we had first met.

A third, much weaker image came through. It was actually two memories combined; me pulling the demon collar from his throat and him crushing Fedor like toothpaste. Then my giant bear closed his eyes, sighed, and settled, the bellows stopped, the great heart fell silent. Almost immediately, red, green and purple motes lifted from his form in waves, swirling up in a storm of light that vanished into the rocky ceiling above. My vision blurred, but I didn’t release my hold on his head to wipe away the tears, not wanting to let go until the great form evaporated from under my touch.

It only took moments for one and a half tons of spirit bear to disappear, leaving me kneeling on the cavern floor, a ring of silent vampires watching. Tanya tugged me upright, gently leading me out of the darkness. A wave of rage struck me, anger that I couldn’t keep my friend. My fist pounded an unbroken stalagmite, shattering it into dust. Alarmed vampires faded back, but Tanya simply hugged me, then led me into the well lit mine where Lydia was organizing the survivors. The little vampire glanced over at us, then did a double take at whatever she saw on my face. I ignored her and the glances of the other vampires as well, instead letting my feet pull me into the cage cell where the Kodiak was kept. The ex-zoo keeper turned security vampire was resting his hand on the mother bear’s head, much like mine had been on Okwari moments ago. His other arm held a bundle of wet fur about the size of a three month old German Shepard. He looked up at me, then back at the bear.

“She just died….she gave birth to this one..then died,” he said. “Should I kill it?” he asked, motioning with the arm holding the outsized bear cub. “It’s got to be some sort of abomination, right? I mean look at it…it’s way too big.. and somehow its birth killed its own mother,” he said, holding his other hand up, razor sharp fingernails ready to slit the baby bear’s throat at my word. Just the same, I could see his reluctance written on his face.

“NO!” I screamed, on him in a blur before his hand could move. He looked at my face, frightened by what he saw, but I simply removed the newborn from his arm and moved away. Suddenly sorry that my crazy outburst had scared him, I tried to explain. “A lot of mothers have died giving birth. Doesn’t mean they want their babies killed in revenge,” I said. “I think we need to keep this one…I’ll take him.”

He glanced away from me to the door. My Tanya sense told me she was standing there, waving him out of the room, Lydia by her side.

I stood and turned, unable to explain my impulse to save the bear cub, but she simply handed me a security team jacket that she already had in her hands. Who she took it from or how she knew I needed it were questions my bond couldn’t answer. The razor sharp perceptions that we had each had during combat had faded back to the normal link that binds us.

I wrapped the cub in the jacket and we headed out of the mine.

Chapter 34

Parts of the trip home to New York are a blur, parts are crystal clear. From the mine to the Rig and back to the airbase is mostly a jumble of images, as I was withdrawn deep inside. The loss of Okwari hit me really hard. I was conscious of Tanya always near me, I was aware that Lydia was watching me with a concerned look as I fed the bear cub. The zookeeper vamp, whose name was Mike, had concocted a formula of sorts from stuff he found in the Rig’s galley kitchen with Mary Alice’s help.

The cub, a male, took to the mixture of Pedialyte, human baby formula and condensed milk with a vengeance, rapidly draining the Rig’s supply. Mary Alice had answered the questioning look I gave her when she pulled out the small case of baby formula. “After those kids in New Mexico, I decided we better be ready for even younger ones,” she said with a defensive shrug.

Boarding the Coven jet was a clear moment, as we found Elder Senka waiting for us inside, along with Nika.

Senka looked like her normal soccer mom self, albeit a hot one, till she spoke with her cultured British accent. Her hair smelled of shampoo, which was my only clue that she had taken a shower recently. That was when I learned she had taken a second team of Darkkin to the lair of the Mexican vampires who had sided with the Spawn. That portion of the Coven had ceased to exist about the same time we were clearing out the mine. Senka got us seated in the passenger area, had hot tea (some fancy variety) brought in for the vampires and a protein shake for me. I had eaten on the Rig, the Darkkin had fed on packed blood, so none of us were hungry, except the cub which I could swear was just about growing in my arms. His eyes, when they opened several hours after birth, were dark brown. He was black furred on his back and head, his underside almost a wheat color. Senka watched him and me while I recounted the fight in the cavern with Ahraman, Fenrir and Okwari. I told it in a flat voice, just keeping to the facts, but she started to ask questions, things about what I felt at each point, impressions I had. My goal was to tell the story without emotion, but her questions didn’t allow for that and I couldn’t stop the tears that formed when I spoke of Okwari’s death. I did, however, crush the arm rest of my seat with my right hand while I struggled to avoid the wave of emotion I felt.

“How do you know he’s dead?” Lydia asked in an uncharacteristically gentle voice. “I mean, he always disappears, right?”

“This was different. His heart stopped, his breathing stopped, then his body just evaporated into little specks of light. Before, when he disappeared, it was always in a sudden swirl of air, almost instant,” I explained. Oddly, explaining the difference helped me rein in my emotions. Tanya was pressed up against my left side, holding my left hand, but not saying much.

Senka pursed her lips in thought, then spoke speculatively. “So, the angel told you Okwari was forbidden from visiting anymore, but he came to protect you from the wolf, Fenrir,” she mused.”The real Fenrir! He sacrificed himself for you, at least in some form. I don’t know if an elder god can actually die, but he is, apparently, gone.”

I was frozen solid at her words, faced with her statement of his sacrifice. In my arms, the cub squirmed, but I didn’t look down. Lydia gasped, and when I looked her way, her eyes were locked on the cub. “Ah, Chris?” she said, nodding at the bundle in my arms. I glanced down and found a black and tan dog pup in my arms. Maybe a wolf pup. Its markings were identical to the bear cub, and its eyes were the same, but it was a canine, not a bear.

“It changed!” Lydia said. “I was watching it feed, and it just sorta shimmered and changed!”

I didn’t know what to say, the pup was feeding from the bottle, making the same grunting noises the cub had and it had the same dark brown eyes when it looked at me. I set him on the floor in the open space between the row of seats that Tanya and I were in and the facing row that Senka and the others were in.

His legs were shaky at first, he wobbled and teetered, but mastered the walking part in very short order. He toddled over to my legs and tried to climb up me, but I just watched him, trying to solve the puzzle. “What are you boy? You some kind of were bearwolf?”

He looked at me like he was trying to understand, then abruptly sat down and started to scratch and bite at the fur on his haunch, but seemed to be missing the spot that bothered him. Suddenly, he flickered, kinda of blurred and then cleared back up only now he was back to cub form. Immediately he used his clawed paws to scratch the offending itch, the result apparently satisfactory as he then returned to climbing my pant legs. Needle claws helped his ascent and he was back in my lap in no time, circling once then curling up and falling asleep.

I looked up at the others, their incredulous expressions matching my own, although Senka’s changed to thoughtful after a moment. She pushed the intercom button on her armrest and spoke. “Vel, attend me please,” she said.

A few moments later a pretty dark-haired woman of middle years appeared, dressed in a dark, ankle length dress and multi-colored blouse. Her feet were bare and she carried a folder in her right hand. Her hair was done in elaborate braids and a whole gift shop worth of necklaces adorned her chest and throat. An iPod was stuffed in the pocket of her blouse and the earbuds hung around her neck amid the nest of necklaces. She nodded to Tanya, Nika and Lydia, ignored me and spoke directly to Senka. I couldn’t understand a word she said. I was gonna guess Slovak, which apparently everyone else spoke, as they all nodded at her words. She opened the folder which contained photos that I immediately recognized as coming from the mine. Tanya lifted her lips to my left ear and whispered a translation. “She has looked at symbols in the pentagram photos and believes it is some type of perverse fertility spell.”

Senka looked up at us, then smiled. “Forgive me Christian. It feels, at times, like you’ve been with us forever. I forgot that you haven’t met most of my staff. Chris Gordon, this is Veleslava Majtas. Vel, this is Tatiana’s Chosen.”

She looked at me and nodded, her face not showing any sign that the introduction meant anything to her at all. I nodded back, then looked back at Senka, who hid an amused smile.

“Veleslava has served me her whole life, as did her mother, her grandmother and her great grandmother. She is, perhaps, one of the finest witches on the planet,” Senka explained. .

The witch’s eyes flashed in irritation at the word ‘perhaps’ and I caught another smile on Senka’s face. It’s really easy to forget how old Senka is – she looks maybe twenty-nine or thirty, but her life spans over twelve centuries.

“The ceremony was most likely used to make the mother bear conceive the wolf-bear pup,” the elder vampire continued, with a head nod to the cub.

“But what was the father….Fenrir?” Lydia asked, before I could.

“Most likely. Chris, have you looked at the cub’s aura?” Senka asked. She could see auras the way I did, it was one of her abilities.

I hadn’t even thought to do so, and feeling foolish at my lack of common sense, I went ahead and looked the cub over with my Sight. His aura was mainly green, with some red and some purple. Slightly more purple than red. I had no idea what that meant, except that the only beings I had ever encountered with those three colors were Okwari, Fenrir and a pack of Hellhounds.

“Well, offhand I gotta say you’re probably right about the Fenrir father issue,” I said.

“Chris, Fenrir was a monster….in every sense of the word. If he grows up to be a danger, he’ll have to be destroyed,” Senka warned me, pointing to the cub.

I had a huge upsurge of protectiveness at the thought of anyone hurting the cub, strong enough that both Tanya and I went rock still. Senka held my angry gaze evenly, until her witch started speaking in heavily accented English. “The creature has a soul!” she said, in disbelief, her eyes locked on the cub. Senka turned to her with a frown. “What do you mean?”

“The structure of the ceremony had a crumb..er..piece of it that blocked any soul from entering the fetus,” Vel said, stumbling over words. “It looks, from these glyphs and symbols like they were attempting to conceive a new form of creature, but one that was a case… a shell.”

“So they could install a demon inside it!” I blurted as fast as the thought occurred to me.

The witch nodded at me. “Yes, but the little beast has a soul, and it is not a demon,” she said, frowning. We all looked at the cub, asleep in my lap.

“What will you call him?” Nika asked me.

The name popped into my head instantly. “Awasos!” I said.

They all looked at me, waiting for an explanation. “It’s Abenaki. Means ‘bear’,” I said.

“Wow! You are some kinda creative with the whole naming thing, Gordon,” Lydia said, sarcastically. “Okwari – bear, Awasos – bear,” she said, turning to look at Tanya. “He’s good looking, sister mine, but not so very bright, know what I mean?”

It looked like she was all done going easy on my feelings.

“I think it fits!” Tanya said right back at her. Senka gave a sharp nod. “It does at that.”

“All I know, is if he eats as much as he has been, I’m gonna have to get a job!”

Tanya looked at me in question. “Well, the Loki’s Spawn are gone, so it’s time to find some employment,” I said.

“Hmmm, funny you should say that Chris!” Senka said, causing everyone to look her way. “I am making some changes and might have just the thing for you,” she said. At our expectant looks she smiled and went on. “Galina will take over New York again and it’s time Tanya got some field experience visiting and auditing the other North American covens.”

I could feel Tanya’s excitement, this obviously meant something to her, but I was lost.

“Chris, Darkkin are nothing if not ambitious. It goes with the predatory nature. Left unwatched the competition between various regions quickly gets out of hand. That’s the role the Elders play, reining in the more aggressive ones before it becomes open warfare. So, I’m sending Tanya out to visit each region and if necessary, troubleshoot any problems. She’ll need someone to watch her back.”

“Senka, I would do that anyway – for free!” I said.

“I know Chris, but every Coven Rover team consists of at least two people, and both are paying jobs,” she said.

“ Unless you want someone else to go with Tanya?” Lydia smirked.

I gave her a level stare and then turned back to Senka. “Of course I’m going.”

She gave a little nod then continued. “This isn’t going into a backcountry bar and wasting everything in sight. It requires diplomacy, tact and intelligence….backed up with the abilty to clean house if need be,” she cautioned. “Which, I understand the pair of you take to a whole new level?”

Tanya and I looked at each other then nodded.

“Now, let’s run through the mine details,” the oldest living creature in North America said.

So we each recounted the details of the raid, again, pausing to answer her questions. The part that involved the old Navajo witch got both her attention and her personal witch’s.

“Go back to the description of his house and the fetishes,” Veleslava directed.

So I took them through that part of the story of where I had met Nakai, finishing with Professor Picairn’s comments regarding illusion. The Slovak witch was nodding her agreement at his conclusions. “What you describe is classic illusion spells, and it fits with the machine guard that he…what is it?...bamboozled,” she said.

Next, I had to go back over the names that Ahraman had called Tanya and me – Lailah and Malahidael.

No one had heard of them and no one knew what they meant. Chet ran a search and shook his head.

When I thought we were done, Senka immediately took a new direction. I was getting exhausted.

“So, Christian, young Chester has shown me the computer file, the ‘Brutal Asset’ file,” she commented.

I suppose I might have grounds to be upset with Chet, but he did work for her, and frankly, I’d defy anyone to hold out information from the ancient vampire if she really wanted it. She took persuasive to a whole other realm.

Chet, himself, interrupted that part of the conversation to tell us that he had just intercepted a DOD alert that Brianna Duclair had been spotted by a DEA agent in the Cananea airport, boarding a small private plane. Her proximity to the Spawn’s lair was obviously not a coincidence. The drug agent hadn’t gotten any details about the plane, its owners or its flight plan, but Chet was going to see what he could pull from his systems.

We spent some time talking about the file, the group that attacked me and Toni in New York ,and last, Duclair’s likely involvement, but we reached no conclusions. Then Chet talked about Nathan Stewart.

“I actually can’t find out that much about Stewart. He has records of working for the government at the end of World War II, but not a lot of detail. I find he has investigated a lot of fringe type phenomenon, like UFO sightings, Bigfoot and creature sightings, strange stories and that sort of thing. But his trail always disappears and none of the government systems I have access to have any information,” Chet said, frustrated.

“So he doesn’t work for the government,” Lydia concluded.

“I didn’t say that! I said I couldn’t find anything at all on him in the government computers! The odds of me not finding something, anything on a person are crazy wild!” he said, all worked up. He took in the vampires expressions and visibly pulled himself in. “Sorry, it’s just not feasible that there would be nothing. Those systems have been wiped – sanitized,” he finished.

“Which means he is highly placed and in some ultrasecret capacity,” Nika said.

We didn’t get much farther than that, although everyone had some speculation or another about the nature of his group. Senka was quiet and I could feel it when her gaze fell on me.

“Would you all give me a moment with Christian here?” she said, although it was more of a command than a question. Tanya stiffened next to me, but her grandmother gave her a little sharpish nod that conveyed ‘it’ll be just a moment, he’ll be fine’ in one motion. They all filed into other parts of the plane, Tanya last, looking at me over her shoulder as she left.

“Chris, I’m not much for explaining myself,” she began, moving over to sit next to me. “I could tell you it comes of twelve centuries of living and leading, but the truth is I’ve never been one to explain my actions. But I feel I should tell you why I made you retell the death of your friend so painfully.” She paused to scratch Awasos’s furry little head. “Vampires have great power and as you know that power grows with time and age. But you have skipped past centuries of learning and growing to reach the level you’re already at.” She paused to look me in the eyes, hers a rich deep chocolate color that you don’t normally find with blondes.

“One of the greatest dangers we face as we age is a certain deadening of emotion, a thickening of the skin as it were. It comes of losing loved ones to time and the dangers of the supernatural world. That’s one of the reasons vampires stay together. The loners get cold and detached, which is a sure road to death, either because they fail to take ordinary precautions, or they simply grow tired of living,” she said. “Okwari was a big part of your life,” she smiled at the ‘big’ part.

“Whether he is truly dead or not, he sacrificed himself for you. The biggest gift one friend can ever give another! It is important for you to capture that and hold it tight inside, always remembering that you had a friend that felt so strongly about your worth, that he unhesitatingly gave himself to protect you. That’s why I prodded and poked at you, and I’m not sorry for it,” she said. Then she patted my knee and slipped out of the room.

The rest of the flight went quietly, mostly because I fell asleep with the warm cub in my lap.

***

I spent the next day figuring out living arraignments for Awasos, gathering formula (the Central Park zoo was useful there) and trying to learn everything I could about raising bears and wolves. Of course, there wasn’t any information about were bear-wolves, so I made it up as I went along. Chet was no help at all, in fact, if I didn’t know better, I would have said he was avoiding me. He might have felt I would be angry about him sharing the Brutal Asset file with Senka, but I wasn’t.

Late in the evening (or about midway through the typical vampire ‘day’) I was playing with the cub in our quarters when Tanya came skipping in. Literally skipping, a big smile on her face.

“Hiya zayka,” she said, using the Russian term for bunny. Americans call loved ones honey, Russians call them bunny.

“Hi yourself,” I responded. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, I’ve been out among the Outer Guards,” she said, lightly.

“Really? Chatting with old friends?” I asked. She seemed especially light hearted tonight.

Her beautiful smile got even wider, which made my heart beat irregularly, like it always does.

“Exactly! In fact, I brought one back with me!” she said, her smile turning mischievous. She leaned out the door and grabbed someone, hauling them into the room by a hand. It was a brown haired girl vampire, who looked about seventeen. Very pretty, which isn’t unusual for vampires, but just a touch younger looking than most. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Her expression was equal parts shy and defiant, with just a little fear thrown in.

“Hi I’m Chris,” I introduced myself.

“Yeah, I know, we’ve already met,” she said. I recognized her voice, but it was another face that popped into my mind. A much younger twelve year old looking face.

“Katrina?” I questioned, completely baffled. The twelve-year old had turned into a young woman, one who could pass for a high school senior or a college freshman.

She nodded, her defiant look shifting fully to shyness. I looked at Tanya in question, completely baffled.

“When you blasted her in the tunnel, you knocked her back to human for four days,” Tanya said, which I already knew.

“I aged about a year for every day I was human. Doc Singh thinks it was my pent up vampire age accelerating my physical age when I was temporarily a human,” Katrina said.

I was stunned, not knowing what to say, completely at a loss for words. Tanya was radiating happiness and Katrina wasn’t exhibiting the same chip-on-the-shoulder attitude she had the first time I met her.

“This is good?” I questioned.

“Of course it’s good!” Tanya said. “Trina is now looking like an adult, or almost an adult. That’s huge, Christian!”

“It’s the almost part we were wondering about?” Trina said, a little shyly. “Do you think you could give me another little blast and move me up to my early twenties?”

It took some time, first for them to convince me to try, which I wasn’t excited about. I don’t have great control over my gifts. Then it took a number of shots to get enough power to knock her human. It’s easy when I’m mad, then I have to dial down the power, but under normal conditions it’s awkward and unfamiliar to try generating the right kind of aura burst. Trina finally got angry and turned on Tanya, telling her she knew it wouldn’t work and that Tanya didn’t really care if she ever achieved an adult body. That made me mad enough to jolt her a good one. That’s when I found out the angry bit was an act. They both started to cry, but with tears of happiness. Tanya took her friend somewhere safe to wait out the day or two she would be human and vulnerable to her enemies. As they left, Trina threw out a remark about how all the child vampires would be seeking me out. Great, now I was running an aging service for ‘underage’ vampires!

Epilogue

The Sweat Lodge was a ten foot diameter dome, made from willow saplings bent into an arc, about four feet high at the center. When I arrived with Wade Pitcairn it had been just a skeleton of wood, lashed together with rawhide. But the Abenaki Elder that Pitcairn introduced me to as Tom, had quickly put us to work covering it with canvas tarps and wool blankets. The dirt floor was covered with hand woven rugs, except for the small pit in the center.

Tom explained to me that the opening to the Lodge always faced East, the tradition in this part of the country. We were three hours North of New York city, having driven up in my Xterra earlier in the morning. Wade had called me two days before to tell me he had been invited by Tom to a ‘Sweat’ which was the short name for a ceremony. Oddly, Tom had extended the invitation to include one individual that Pitcairn thought might benefit from the experience. My name had popped into his mind.

About fifteen feet in front of the Lodge opening was a smoldering fire pit, the bright red coals piled around and among a group of lava rocks. Halfway between the fire pit and the lodge was a small mound of dirt with pair of forked sticks shoved into the mound. Balanced across the forks, was another stick, this one straight. Tom explained that this was the barrier alter, which both honored the ancestors of the sweat participants and prevented any heat dizzied individuals from falling into the fire when leaving the lodge. Leaning against the tiny barrier post was a bundle of native tobacco, a rolled bundled of sage, another bundle of sweetgrass and an Eagle feather. The three of us wore only baggy swim trunks, and a stack of worn but clean beach towels waited for the end of our sweat on a wooden bench. The incongruity of a Myrtle Beach towel in the decidedly Native American setting made me smile. The other two were looking at me curiously, which I thought at first was because of the grin, but then I realized it was my fairly radical physique. Pitcairn was in pretty good shape himself, but Tom was a surprise. From what I pieced together of his background, he must have been in his sixties, but his physical condition was excellent, looking more like a really fit forty-year old.

Pitcairn had explained the procedure to me during the ride up. First, Tom said a prayer in Abenaki, requesting the presence of the spirits of our ancestors, of Earth Mother and the Creator, asking that they listen to our questions and supplications. He pinched off a portion of the tobacco and offered it to the spirits by putting in the sacred fire. Then he lit the bundle of sage with a burning brand from the fire, and using the eagle feather, began to smudge Pitcairn. “This is to remove negative energy or bad spirits,” he explained, having Wade hold his arms straight out from his body and then standing on first one foot, then the other. The purifying, sweet scented smoke was wafted under arms and feet with the help of the feather. I was next, lifting my arms, then each foot, while the smoke tickled my sense of smell. Finally, he smudged himself, only asking for help from Pitcairn to waft sage smoke over his back.

Awasos, in wolf-dog form, watched all this from his spot on the ground twenty-five feet away. I had tied him to a tree and put a big bowl of water near him. Only a month after his birth and he was already almost the size of a full grown golden retriever. His intelligent brown eyes watched my every move, but he kept his head on his paws without appearing overly anxious.

I’ve had dogs my whole life, but Awasos was so much smarter than any dog I’d ever seen. Of course, he wasn’t a dog, more like bear mixed with wolf mixed with something else – something I couldn’t quite name. He had learned within two weeks to be adept at maintaining his ‘doggy’ role, at least in public. Inside the Citadel, he would shift at will between his bear and canine forms. Big for his age as a wolf or dog, he was even bigger in bear form, already over two hundred pounds. His collar was specially made from stretchy fabric that would expand when he shifted. Lydia had arraigned rabies and registration tags which would stand up to investigation, although no rabies vaccine had been anywhere near him. His body was riddled with the LV virus, which like V-squared, was a jealous host. No other pathogens would be allowed inside him.

He lifted his head to watch me enter the lodge, relaxing only a bit at my soft words. I turned back to the entry of the lodge and spoke the words Tom had taught me. “Mitakuye Oyasin,” which was Lakota for “All my relatives”.

The Lakota had retained their traditions of the sweat ceremony long after other tribes had been forced by the federal government to stop. The revival of the ceremony had been strong, sweeping back to the East coast, but retaining some Lakota nuances.

Inside, after crawling clockwise to the Western point of the lodge, I sat cross-legged and watched, curious. At Tom’s direction, Pitcairn used an old pitchfork to drag hot chunks of lava from the fire, then picked them up and dropped them into the pit in the center of the dark lodge. Tom guided each stone with a pair of deer antlers, murmuring words in Abenaki as each thumped into the hole. When he was satisfied, he called to Pitcairn, who propped the pitchfork against a tree and entered the lodge, flipping the door flap closed behind him. The darkness was almost complete, only the glow of the red hot rock offering any illumination. I avoided using any of my vampire senses, instead attempting to experience this ceremony as ‘human’ as I could.

Tom thumped a small skin drum, then dipped four ladles of water from a birch bark pail next to him. Huge clouds of steam rolled over my face, the heat immediate and thick, making it very hard to breath. I closed my eyes, lowered my chin to my chest and concentrated on taking slow breaths of the hot, moist air. In the dark, cloying lodge, the first sensation was of claustrophobia, but as I slowed my breathing and centered myself, the feeling became one of openness and vulnerability. I was packed in a tiny hut with two grown men, but it seemed almost like I was alone, hidden in a safe, warm pocket in the Earth.

Tom spoke quietly. “Great Creator, we come before you to give thanks and seek guidance. Please hear these supplicants and give of your wisdom should it please you to do so,” he said, then went quiet. That was apparently Wade’s cue to speak.

“Creator, I thank you for my life. I thank you especially for bringing Theresa into my life.”

Theresa was his new girlfriend, an assistant professor at Columbia and a major downer to all the hopeful coeds in his classes.

“Two dips please,” he requested. Steam poured up from the pit as Tom poured the water onto the heated rocks and the temperature went even higher.

It was my turn next and I struggled to put together the words that I wanted to say. There would be four of these rounds, Wade had told me. Each round was for questions, honoring relatives or just expressing oneself.

“Creator, thank you for Tatiana and thank you for Gramps. One to go to and one to guide me there,” I said, feeling vulnerable at saying the words in front of relatively unknown people. It also struck me that I was, in fact, praying to God, something I hadn’t done since I was eight. Somehow it was easier to do, addressing him as Creator and speaking in the dark safety of the sweat lodge.

“Two dips please,” I requested. More steam rolled over us. Tom spoke next.

“Creator, thank you for speaking to me in your many ways. Thank you for putting me in this place and time to do whatever small things I can to advance your will.”

I heard the each separate splash of water as he dipped three small ladles of water with his hand carved wooden cup.

We all sat in the hot dark, concentrating on our own thoughts and struggling with the process of just breathing the super heated air. After a time, Tom requested that Wade open the flap and the round was over. Cool air flowed into the lodge, displacing some of the steam. Wade, as firekeeper, crawled out, after speaking the Lakota phrase to honor his ancestors, and at Tom’s direction selected three more rocks from the fire. He then spoke the phrase and reentered the lodge, sealing the flap behind him.

In the second round, Wade honored his father, who I surmised had passed on a few years prior. I gave thanks for my small circle of close friends; Lydia, Chet, Gina and Brett.

Tom spoke of his wife and two adult sons.

The third round was especially difficult. “Creator, I have never thanked you for the eight years I got to have with my parents and my brother,” I said, my throat threatening to close as I spoke. “So thank you for that, although I am still confused on why you had to take them from me. They sacrificed their lives for mine, so I especially thank them. May they be at peace and may their afterlives be as grand as they deserve.”

Tom was silent for a several minutes after pouring the three dippers of water I requested, finally saying what sounded like a prayer in Abenaki.

The fourth round Wade asked for guidance with his troubled sister. When it came time for me to speak, the words flowed out of their own accord.

“Creator, I thank Okwari for his friendship and his sacrifice. I do not understand why he was forbidden from being in this realm and I worry for him. I ask you for some sign of his well being, some indication of what he has gone on to….please? One dipper please.”

The lodge was silent for a moment as the steam billowed up, the water hissing on the glowing red of the top layer of lava rocks.

Suddenly, my hyper acute ears picked up the sound of a loud SNAP followed by the rush of padding paws. I was the only one ready when the door flap was yanked off and a big furry black and tan dog head poked into the lodge and woofed at me.

“Awasos! What are you doing?” I asked, as if expecting an answer. He just looked at me steadily, expectantly, as I slid out of the lodge. “I’m really sorry, I don’t know what got into him,” I apologized to Tom and Wade who were both still shocked by the sudden light and the furry face in the doorway.

A six inch chunk of torn nylon rope hung from his collar. The stuff was supposed to be rated for over five hundred pounds of stress, but he’d snapped it like cheap thread. Not something even a big dog would likely do to brand new rope. I got him turned so his back was to the lodge and the curious looks of Wade and Tom. He sat for me while I untied the broken chunk, his big brown eyes still locked on my face, which his tongue kept trying to wash.

“I must have tied it wrong or something,” I said, keeping the snapped rope out of sight.

“You are very interested in bears?” Tom asked.

When I looked up, puzzled, he went on. “You have a friend named Okwari or bear in Mohawk. Your….dog..is named Awasos,” he explained.

I nodded. “Yeah, I guess if I were Native American, I would look to the Great Bear for guidance,” I said. He nodded at my words.

“I am Bear Clan, as was my father before me,” he said. “Although, looking at Awasos, I wonder that you didn’t name him Molsum…wolf?”

“He does look pretty wolflike,” I allowed as I adjusted the fit of the collar in the thick neck fur. His brown eyes caught my glance and then something happened. The brown flashed red, bright red like the coals in the fire or the color of molten lava, then just as quickly were brown again. He panted, his jaws open in a toothy grin.

Shocked, I still managed to speak, even as I struggled with what only I had seen, as his back was to them. “You’ll just have to trust me that at times he is more bear-like than wolf.”

End

John Conroe is known to live in upstate New York with his wife and children, where he fabricates stories and knives. Twenty-four years of banking and finance experience have left their mark on his psyche, driving him to create worlds of urban fantasy. Visit him at www.johnconroe.com to learn more about him and his novels.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Cha pter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Epilogue